


News From Bree

by ElderberryWine



Series: 221B Bag End [7]
Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes - fandom
Genre: M/M, Part of the 221B Bag End series.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderberryWine/pseuds/ElderberryWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baggins and Gamgee are summoned on a shocking case that will take them far from the Shire.  Written for the <i>Waymeet</i> TTT challenge, in which we chose a line as inspiration.  The title rather gives it away, really, but you'll find the quote in the author's note at the end. Chapter Three was written for the ROTK challenge, and that quote will also be found in the author's note at the end.  Part of the <i>221B Bag End</i> series, which I might hasten to add is <i>very</i> much an AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I can't thank you enough for seeing me, my good sirs," our visitor murmured, standing before the study fire and still dripping water onto the hearth. " 'Tis an evil night out, this night, and not one I'd ever be out in, if there were any choice in the matter."

"We don't mind in the least, do we, Gamgee?" Frodo immediately assured him, with great courtesy. "But, my good hobbit, do take a cup of tea, or something stronger, if you care for it. The chill can bite into your very bones, this night."

"Indeed, Mr. Baggins, you speak the truth," the visitor gave a weak laugh, and tried his utmost to conceal his shivering.

My healer's instincts were, however, aroused, and I couldn't let the fellow catch his death of a chill in our very smial, so I snatched up a thick blanket from the settle, threw it around him despite his wet attire, and very nearly forced him into the comfortable chair in the corner. "Just you stay put," I used my most commanding tone, as he tried to excuse himself and stand up again. "Whatever your business may be will have to wait, for I've no mind to have any guest catching a fever right in front of my very eyes. Stay right where you are, and I shall have Mrs. Rumble fetch you some tea, with something stronger in it, and a basin of warm water in which to soak your feet. You've no business at all, I must say, gallivanting about on a night like this as lightly dressed as you are. And I'll hear no more about the matter."

"You'd best do as he says," Baggins chuckled, taking a deep draught on his pipe. "It's the healer in him, you know. You may tell us both of the entire affair once he has you squared away, but not until then."

It wasn't long before the good widow had provided our visitor with a hot pot of tea, with a neat dollop of brandy added, as well as a plate of buttered toast and a pot of honey. His feet were in a basin of warm water which went a long way to easing my concern about his being so thoroughly soaked to the skin on such a cold night as this. Both of us declined to hear a single word he had to say until he had finished at least one cup of tea, and a piece of toast, but Baggins was putting the interim to good use.

"You've come a very long way," he murmured at last, when our visitor's shivering seemed to be easing, "even as far as, I'd venture to guess, Brandywine Bridge. And you've come in the greatest of haste, even on such a foul day as this one has been."

Our visitor very nearly dropped his cup on the floor in his consternation. "Bless me, Mr. Baggins!" he exclaimed, his weathered face all astonishment. "However did you know that?"

Baggins chuckled, and pointed with his pipe stem to the front of his jacket, that was visible under the blanket. "You mis-buttoned your weskit, and as you appear to be in trade, that would indicate anxiety, since you would be quite used to wearing one. In addition, you did not consult the weather before setting out, another indication of haste, since the jacket is far too light for a long journey at autumn's end. As for the location, the type of trousers that you are wearing are often seen in towns along the river, since they can easily be rolled up and fastened to keep them out of the water. But I noticed that, when we shook hands, you did not have the sort of calluses that are indicative of the life of a river-hobbit, once again indicating a trade occupation. So I hazarded a guess as to the nearest location with a good deal of river traffic, and that would be the Brandywine Bridge."

"Indeed," the gnarled hobbit breathed, still awestruck, "you are every bit as good as he said. Jem Reedborn, that is."

"Ah, so Reedborn recommended the both of us?" Baggins gave a pleased nod in my direction. "For you realize, of course, that we always work together. Good heavens, it's been quite nearly a year since that affair with Nethercleft. Well, do go on, my dear hobbit. If Reedborn has thought fit to send you, this must be a matter of some interest."

"You might put it in that manner," replied our visitor, somewhat dryly. "Anyway, my name is Nick Greenshanks, and I'm Jem's cousin. I have a trading company in Bridgeton, on the bank of the Brandywine near the Bridge, and do a good deal of trade with Bree. As I'm quite sure you know, Bridgeton is the last village in the Shire, before you set off on the Great Eastern Road, and so I've always had a good number of customers from Bree who order what can't be had except from here. Mostly it's hobbits, but some of the men from Bree have a taste for our pipeweed, and that sort of thing as well."

"Now, about half a year or so ago, I started getting requests for a type of plant, a weed, really, that is common in the hills of East Farthing. Kingsfoil, we call it, but those who wanted it had another name, which I disremember. It seemed like an odd request, sure enough, but there ain't no accounting for the tastes of some folk, as I learned long ago, and it was an easy enough matter to send a lad up in the hills to pick a bushel or two of the stuff. I was packing it up and sending it with the usual shipments to Bree, when there started to be trouble."

"My hobbits, who've worked for me for years, told me that on the last two shipments, they were set about by bandits, with their faces well-hidden. But it seems as though they wanted naught but this weed. They let them have it, gladly, thinking it of little worth and relieved to get off so easily. But the next day, come daylight, they passed the remains of a bonfire, to the side of the road, and saw as it was the kingsfoil, and it had been set afire. Why the thieves were bent on destroying it, I've no idea, but after it happened twice, I told my customers in Bree that they'd have to come and fetch it themselves, as I'd no mind to be dealing with these scoundrels any longer. But that would hardly be the sort of matter with which to concern you, Mr. Baggins. And you likewise, Mr. Gamgee," he added politely, with only the briefest of pauses. We both inclined our heads courteously, and waited for more.

"Well, seems as though the customer for this item was most persistent, and offered a good deal for at least one more shipment. In addition, he agreed to provide a guard for this trip, so I saw no harm in accepting the transaction. I wish I never had." The last statement was made with a bitterness that quite startled me, but I saw by Baggins' expression that he was expecting something of that sort.

"Do go on, Mr. Greenshanks, you are quite intriguing me," he murmured, steepling his hands before his face as was his wont when he was keenly interested in a matter.

Our visitor took a quick draught of his tea, seemingly to collect his thoughts, and then continued. "Two hobbits arrived from Bree, as per our arrangements, and they were a sturdy and grim pair, no mistake. I saw they were even armed with long knives. Some one was taking no chances this time. I sent two of my stoutest lads along with them, and had no fear for their safety. It appears I was quite wrong to feel that way." He halted his recitation for a moment and gave a convulsive gulp. "After only two days out, one of my lads made his way back to Bridgeton, but exactly what happened, he could not say. His wits were quite gone, and his mutterings and scattered words made no sense. I took several of my hobbits and my cousin, Jem, out to find out what I could, and discovered what was left of the ponies, not far from the Road. The shipment of kingsfoil was, as before, burnt a little ways off. There was no sign of the hobbits from Bree, and my other lad was gone as well without a trace. There was, however, another body there beside those of the ponies."

There was unmistakable fear in his eyes as he looked up at Baggins and continued. "It was a man, and no ordinary one. He was a Ranger."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was a brutally cold morning as we left Bag End. The rain had ceased, but the sky was white, and there was the promise of snow before long. There was but the two of us, as we had left Greenshanks behind. His chill had led into a coughing complaint, as I had feared it would, and he was in no condition to travel. We had left him in the care of Mrs. Rumble, who was more than happy to have a patient over whom to fuss. Both Baggins and I severely disappointed her along that line, since we were both abnormally healthy, so I was delighted to leave her with a hobbit who would need all her attention.

It was not long out of Hobbiton when the snow began. Great swirling flakes they were, at first, starting to stick on the bushes and tree to the sides of the road, and attaching themselves to one's face and lashes. Partially to distract myself from the annoyance of brushing them out of my eyes, partially from the desire to forget quite how frigid my toes were becoming, and partially as well from pure curiosity, I turned to Baggins as we walked close together, hand tightly clasped in hand, and asked, "Tell me, Frodo, what do you know of these Rangers?"

"More rumor and conjecture than facts, I'm afraid," he gave his characteristic short bark of a laugh, "and really not that much of either. The facts are that they are undeniably men, they live to the north of the Shire, and they keep to themselves. Would you have the rumors as well?"

"Indeed," I chuckled. "I know you scorn them, my dear, but I have always felt that hidden in any rumor is generally the kernel of a fact."

"Very well put, Gamgee," he murmured, and I felt the glow of satisfaction from the unexpected compliment. "The rumors are generally centered about their purported descent from the Kings of Westernesse, from days of old," he continued. "They are also said to act as guardians by some, and predators by others."

"Guardians? Of whom?" I asked, perplexed by that notion.

"The Shire, for the most part, but the other lands of the west as well."

"I suppose they are doing a decent job of it, then," I couldn't help but chuckle. "All of the trouble we've run into during the last few years has come up from the south or possibly the east. Of course, I'd no idea that anyone lived to the north of the Shire other than the odd wolf or two."

"Either you are quite right about our lack of neighbors," Baggins responded seriously, "or they have indeed been performing that task well. But the death of one of them, very nearly on the doorstep of the Shire, has me suspecting that the latter has been the case, and there is much more to this, now, than that of which we are aware. However, it is idle to speculate without sufficient facts, so we must wait to see what may be discovered in Bridgeton. I am especially interested in Reedborn's report of what he saw, since I have a great appreciation for his eye for detail. Be that as it may, I am beginning to suspect we will not be hearing it tonight, for the snow is coming down rather more heavily than I had anticipated."

My thoughts had been wandering in places far away so it was with a bit of a start that I looked about us, and discovered that he was quite right. The brown and green at the side of the road had been transformed to nearly entirely white, and the drifting snow was beginning to mound up in the road as well. "There's no inn near the road in this vicinity," I murmured in dismay, "and the idea of camping out for the night is not particularly appealing to me, I must admit."

"I entirely agree, my dear Sam, but I'm afraid we're in for it." was his wry reply, and we tramped through the drifts for a mile more in silence.

Then I noticed a clearing in the trees to the side of us, and suddenly realized exactly where we were. "Well, if I'm not the greatest of ninnyhammers as ever was!" I exclaimed happily, stopping in my tracks. "Of course, things always look different in the snow, but down that path lies Farmer Braeburne's smial, and we very nearly passed it by!"

"Farmer Braeburne?" Baggins gave me a quizzical glance as he tried to stamp some of the snow from his feet.

"Certainly," I assured him cheerfully. "Had a fauntling that had a touch of the ague last spring. A genial sort, and we undoubtedly could find some hospitality with him in such a wretched bit of weather as this has turned out to be."

"Excellent, Gamgee. You have persuaded me completely," Baggins cheerfully replied as he blew on his fingers to warm them up a bit. "Lead on, my good fellow, and I shall be the most pleasant guest imaginable for the chance to stand before a rousing fire and sip a cup of something hot."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I was gratified to find that Farmer Braeburne, after only a moment's puzzlement over the two well-dressed hobbits knocking on his door in such inclement weather, recognized me right off, and opened the door wide with a warm greeting. "Mr. Gamgee, do come in! Bless me, but it ain't a fit day to be on the road! You must have urgent business indeed to be out and on your way."

"Indeed we do," I assured him, as he pumped my hand most heartily in greeting, "but we are not as far along as we had hoped to be."

"Well, then, you must stay the night, and I'll hear no more on the matter!" he grinned widely, and gave Baggins a curious glance.

"My pardon," I hastened to introduce my companion. "Frodo Baggins, of Bag End."

"Pleased to meet you, good sir, and any friend of Mr. Gamgee is more than welcome in our smial. Mother!" he called out lustily, after having shaken Baggins' hand as well, "here are two fine travelers come to call!"

Mrs. Braeburne appeared promptly at her husband's call, wiping her hands on her apron, and closely shadowed by a small fauntling. "Oh, 'tis good to be seein' you, Mr. Gamgee, though unexpected on a day such as this, I must say! No matter, you and your friend are most welcome!"

"The chicken, I should think, Mother?" the farmer quietly mentioned, as the fauntling transferred her shelter to her father, peeking out at us from behind him.

"Oh, aye, and just enough time to fry it," she beamed. "I'll be gettin' the kettle on, Father, and you be takin' the gentlehobbits wet clothes, now, or they'll think we have no manners at all!"

Recognizing the young lass I had seen to, several months ago, I bent down to greet her as the farmer took Baggins' wet cape from him. "Hello, Cherry, m'dearie, do you remember me then?"

She nodded hesitantly, her dark curls bobbing about her small face, and her expressive dark eyes fixed on me. Then she gave me a wide smile, immediately resembling her father. "Aye, you'd be the one as gave me the honey drops!" she exclaimed gaily. "Would you be havin' any more then?"

"Cherry!" exclaimed her father, fondly wrapping an arm about her shoulder. "Don't be botherin' the gentlehobbits so!"

I took off my cloak as well, but as her father turned to hang them before the fire, I gave Cherry a conspiratorial wink. "I'll have a look, m'dear, in my pack later tonight, and see if one or two haven't found their way into the bottom o'it," I whispered to her. She gave a pleased giggle and returned my wink, but as I straightened up, I caught Baggins, out of the corner of my eye, looking at me with an odd expression on his sharp features.

There was no time to consider that, though, for Farmer Braeburne was urging us into two comfortable chairs before a hearty fire, and handing us rugs to wrap about our chilled feet, and his wife was bustling into the room with a tray loaded with a steaming teapot and a plate piled high with buttered toast and a small round pot of jam and a good round cheese at the side. "Help yourselves, my good sirs, and I'll have this dinner out in no time," she assured us with a smile, and gave her young daughter a significant look. "Come along, now, Cherry, m'pretty, we've much to be doin'."

Farmer Braeburne settled comfortably back in his chair and brought out his pipe, as did the both of us, and conversation settled on genial generalities for a time. But at last his natural inquisitiveness got the better of him, and he could not help asking about the purpose of our trip on such an unlikely day.

I set back, and allowed Baggins to take the lead on this matter, curious as to how much he wished to reveal. But apparently, Baggins had been sizing out the farmer as a source of information, since he replied, "We are on a matter of business, I don't mind telling you, having to do with some peculiar events that have happened recently in Bridgeton, in regards to the trade from Bree. May I ask, Farmer Braeburne, if you have ever had cause to do business in that particular direction?"

To my surprise, the farmer slowly nodded. " 'Tis true, I used to, indeed. When I was a tween, I used to give my uncle a hand, from time to time, on his farm t'the east. He had a good size apple orchard, and had a fair amount of trade with Bridgeton and Bree, likewise. I alus had a hankerin' to go with him on his trips to Bree, for, as you may remember, in those old days, many a hobbit used to go on their travels now and again, even outside of the Shire. Now, not that many as ever went as far as Bree ever came back, and not that all they said was believed: news from Bree, and not sure as Shiretalk, as the sayings go. But my uncle was one as did come back, and he told me many a wonderous tale of the shops of men, that seemed to reach to the sky, that I was burning to go, likewise. He finally let me come along, once, and it was a treat indeed, to see such a curious place."

"So when I had my own crops t'sell, I thought at once of Bree, but the road had become more treacherous in the meanwhile, and I had enough business with Bridgeton, that I thought no more of it. Word out of Bridgeton these days is that it don't do to go that way, a'tall, and that's a fair shame. I've no idea how those hobbits, out that way, are gettin' by anyhow."

"You are right as to the road becoming more dangerous," responded Baggins somberly, "as it is a case of murder that we are investigating. Tell me, Mr. Braeburne, what type of crops do you raise?"

""Mostly just enough for ourselves, but we've a rather nice apple orchard, and a row or two of pear and plum trees, likewise. We've just finished setting out the last bushel or two of apple to dry in the loft, and just in time, from the look o'it out of doors."

"Have you ever had any request for kingfoil?" Baggins asked abruptly, watching the farmer carefully.

"What, the weed?" Braeburne asked with a bit of bewilderment. "No, but there's a bit of it in the rocky hills just north of the farm. I could look about, if you like, when the snow clears out. Is it good for a healing brew or sommat? Can't be sayin' I ever heard of such a thing."

"We are not in the market for it, but I was curious if anyone else had asked. And I might warn you that if anyone who is unfamiliar to you asks such a question, it would be best, for the time being, to not allow as to any knowledge where it might be found. For reasons I have yet to determine, it seems to be at the heart of this dangerous business."

Farmer Braeburne had no chance to ask any more, since at that moment, his good wife entered with the welcome news that dinner was ready. We, and I might add that included even Baggins, stuffed ourselves with the delicious fried chicken, mashed taters, honey-glazed carrots and parsnips, fresh bread and a marvelous spiced apple tart with fresh cream for afters, and the topic of kingsfoil, as well as our errand, seemed to be forgotten. I did, however, catch Framer Braeburne giving Baggins many a thoughtful glance over the course of the evening.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The Braeburne smial was very old and had been, as was common in these rocky hills, built partially against rather than inside the hillside. The large comfortable kitchen, in which we ate our marvelous meal, occupied the lower floor, along with storerooms and a pantry, and overhead was the loft, with wide slats for flooring, slightly separated, to allow the air to circulate and the apples to dry properly. The Braeburnes had, of course, offered us the use of their bedroom, a proposition which Baggins and I would not for a moment consider, but the loft, where the occasional itinerant worker stayed during harvest season, was the alternative. What with the kitchen directly below, it was comfortably warm and, as we found when we climbed up the ladder fixed to the side of the kitchen wall, more than suited to our needs. A large straw mattress, well-covered with clean sheets and a stack of blankets, was tucked against the far wall, and the rows of apples, neatly laid out in tidy lines, were still fresh enough to give off a delectable aroma. In comparison to the alternative of trying to sleep huddled against a tree in the blowing snowstorm which could still be heard raging out of doors, there simply was no contest. We gave heartfelt thanks to our hosts, and soon found ourselves cozily curled together as the sound of tidying up below gradually gave away to a peaceful silence.

"You have a way with fauntlings, my dearest Gamgee," Baggins murmured at last, his back against my chest. "It must be your kindly heart." I was not surprised by his comment, since I had had a notion as to what that glance prior to dinner had meant. But this matter had been discussed before and the conclusion, at least in my mind, was firm and not in the least regretful.

"An asset in my profession," I commented lightly, tucking my arm snugly about his chest.

"Rather more of a natural talent, I should think," was the carefully neutral reply. "Ever thought you'd be considering a life without any about the place?"

"Well," I could not help but chuckle, "my medical expertise tells me that we are, between the two of us, highly unlikely to produce any of our own. But what of you, Frodo? Had you ever considered the possibility?"

He rolled onto his back and stared up at me, in the ruddy glow of the dying fire from below. "Never. I always considered myself very much like Bilbo in that regard."

"And yet he had you," I couldn't help but mention, affectionately tucking a stray dark curl behind his ear with a smile. "One never really knows, does one."

His mouth quirked up at the corner, with that expression that always made my heart race just a little faster. "How very true, my love. You have me, indeed, my dearest Sam, at your advantage."

"I certainly hope so," I breathed, bending over and kissing him slowly and thoroughly. The light from below was soon gone, but I never needed it at all, for there was no form I knew better in all the world than the delectable one that was under me, no mouth I knew better than the one that sought out my own, and no heart that ever beat as true as the one that beat next to mine.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

We left the next morning, shortly after second breakfast, but not without Farmer Braeburne pulling us aside in confidence. "Any little thing as I can do, to help the pair of you gentlehobbits out, you just give me the word," he declared emphatically, a sturdy hand on my shoulder. "I'd never be forgettin' what you did, Mr. Gamgee, t'help out our Cherry, and I don't mind admitting that she's all the world t'the goodwife and me. We ain't likely t'be havin' another, not at our age."

"She's a lovely little lass," I responded sincerely, "and I'm that happy to have been a help last year." And indeed she was, poking her head out from the kitchen with a shy smile. I had made certain, early that morning, to find a handful of honey drops in my pack to carefully place next to her plate at the breakfast table.

Baggins said nothing, but gave the farmer a searching look. I suspected he had plans, but knew that at this early stage, there was no point in asking. However, we were shortly underway, on the Great Eastern Road again, and to our great relief, the snow was lighter this morning. We made good time, sticking to the center of the road where the drifts were the least substantial, and were into Bridgeton by early afternoon.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Greenshanks had given excellent directions, and it wasn't long before we found Reedborn's smial, tucked away on the far side of Bridgeton, near the river. Despite the fact that it was afternoon, there was a light on inside the round window, and very glad I was of it, for it had started to snow heavily once again. We rapped on the door, and stood stamping our feet impatiently, but the door was opened by an unexpected party, Bobbin, or Willum Briarfoot, as it were.

"Bobbin!" I exclaimed in delight, impulsively embracing the tween. "I never would have thought to find you here!"

"No doubt," came the laconic drawl behind him, and Jem Reedborn appeared behind him, pipe firmly clenched in his mouth and a broad smile on his face. "But I expected to see my cousin, with the pair of you, as well. What became of him?"

 

"Caught a bit of a chill, and we left him behind with the good Widow. No hobbit in all the Shire could possibly be more pampered than he is, at this moment," I replied with a grin. "But however did Bobbin end up here with you?"

"We'll tell you all, never fear," Bobbin exclaimed with a laugh, "but there's no point in standing in the doorway in the snow, is there?"

"An eminently sensible lad," Reedborn solemnly responded, with a wink. "Come in, my friends, come in."

It was not long before we were seated comfortably about a snug fire, with a mug of brown ale each, and a tasty homely loaf and an excellent round cheese as well, to take the corners off. Both Baggins and I had found our pipes, at Reedborn's invitation, and the room was quickly filled with that homely aroma. Bobbin sat cross-legged on the hearth rug, for it was a small smial, and there was barely room for the three chairs that the rest of us occupied, and surveyed us with a wide grin. I made a mental note that he was no longer the scrawny lad who I had found hiding behind the counter of his cousin's inn the previous year, but he was now growing nicely and much browner.

"Life on the river agrees with you, Bobbin," Baggins murmured at my side, uncannily mirroring my own thoughts. "I suppose being innkeeper did not suit."

"A good guess," chuckled Reedborn, "although I suppose it was never a guess, coming from you. Yes, Bobbin's cousin died not long after that business we were mixed up in last year, and the next time I went down river, there was young master Bobbin, trying to keep the whole thing going on his own."

"And making the sorriest mess of it as ever was," Bobbin laughed, unselfconsciously. "So when Jem offered to teach me the trade of a river hobbit, I packed the whole thing in and left town as quick as ever."

"I still remember how deftly you handled our little boat." I took a sip of my ale, and curled my warming toes happily. "I would have suspected you to have a natural inclination for that sort of occupation even then."

"Indeed. But as to the purpose of our visit," Baggins abruptly mentioned, his attention now shifting to the more important question at hand. "Your cousin told me some particulars, but I would appreciate hearing your version of these odd occurrences."

"More than odd, I'd say," Reedborn gave a troubled glance into his mug. " 'Tis a darker matter than that business of Nethercleft's, and that's sayin' a good deal. I'd not be knowin' as much about the particulars as my cousin, but seemingly there's been a good deal of trade in that weed some call kingsfoil, in recent years, with some folks in Bree. Whether the customers there are hobbit or human, I can't rightly say. And there also seems to be a good deal of trouble for such a worthless thing. Not so worthless to some, I'm guessing, though I can't imagine why."

"But the last shipment was when matters came to a head indeed. When Nick's hobbit, Wen, came back with his wits gone and only a wild senseless tale, Nick took me and a couple other of his hobbits out to see what was going on. It was about a day's ride from the Shire, on the Great Eastern Road, when we found what had been left of their encampment. The ponies' bodies were still there and untouched. I could not tell what had killed them, since there was no sign of wounds or a struggle, but their eyes were staring wide open as if they'd seen something fearful. We buried them, and went on a little further. It was then we discovered what had been left of a bonfire, and it must have been the kingsfoil as was burned, for there was no bit of charred wood left, as with a regular campfire. And next to it was the body of a man."

Reedborn fell silent then, until Baggins gently urged him on. "Your cousin mentioned that it was the body of a Ranger," he prompted him quietly. "What made you think that?"

"Nick knew him," Reedborn replied quietly. "It was a chap he'd met in Bree, once upon a time, as went by the name of Greyhelm, on account of his hair. Quiet sort, but if there was a bit of trouble, as was occasionally the case with so many different types living in close quarters, why, he'd show up, and things would inevitably sort themselves out. My trips to Bree were not as many as were cousin Nick's, so I never met him, but I've always shared in Nick's good opinion of Rangers, no matter what others as don't know no better might have to say."

There was a moment's silence then, and the occasional pop and sizzle of sap in the firewood was the only sound to be heard. "Well, then," Baggins finally stated what was, to me, the obvious. "I believe that the answers we seek are to be found, at this time, in Bree."

Reedborn nodded slowly, as if he had also reached the same conclusion. "It's not going to be an easy trip, this time of year," he gave a final puff on his pipe before started to tamp it out, "but I'll see to the particulars. Of course, I'll be going along. This matter concerns my cousin and me, and I mean to see it through."

"And don't you be forgettin' me!" exclaimed Bobbin, his young face flush with excitement. "After all, I was a help the last time, wasn't I, Mister Baggins?"

"Indeed you were," Baggins gave him a slow smile, "but I'll leave that matter up to Mr. Reedborn."

"As if it would be possible to leave him behind," Reedborn muttered, with a wry grin, reaching over to tousle Bobbin's hair. "Very well, I suppose it's the four of us then. Well, I'll be off then, to arrange for ponies and supplies. Bobbin can entertain the both of you while he prepares dinner. Not the sausage, though, lad, let's keep that for the trip."

The tween nodded cheerfully. "Toad in hole," he suggested happily. "Eggs don't pack well, nohow."

"Such a practical lad," Reedborn agreed with a grin and was soon off.

He returned by nightfall, two ponies in tow, and a large pack of supplies. "More for the supplies than us, but we can alternate if we like," he explained as we sat down to the kitchen table and tucked into the delicious dinner. "I have not mentioned the presence of you two gentlehobbits, but have given out that Bobbin and I are making our way to Hobbiton, to see to my cousin, who unfortunately took ill on a trip there. Thought it'd be best that way."

"An excellent idea," Baggins confirmed, with an approving smile. "Fortunately, if it continues to snow on the morrow, as I suspect it might, there will be no tracks to prove otherwise."

We left the subject of our investigation, at that point, and the rest of the evening was spent on companionable conversation. Baggins and I bedded down, in thick blankets, before the common room fire, and were quickly asleep, connected only by our clasped hands and unfailing sense of each other's presence.

The morning was frigid and white with pending snow, but we were gone before second breakfast, on the road to Bree.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a frigid morning when we left Bridgeton. It was not snowing at the moment, but the sky was thick and white, and we could easily see the clouds our breath made in the air, so I had no doubt that the snow was only holding off for the moment. The small booth that was intended to shelter the guard was empty, and Jem indicated the lit window of a nearby inn with a wry laugh. "First and second breakfast must be running together," he noted dryly. "No real need to watch the Road every moment, now, is there?" Thus we made our way without notice through the great gate that separated the Shire from the lands beyond, and I was startled to see the ancient stone Wall, stretching away to the south out of sight, for somehow I had always thought its existence merely a myth.

I mentioned as much to Baggins, but he gave his head a slight shake, and murmured, "It's real enough to the inhabitants on the far side of West Farthing, I assure you, Gamgee. They keep it in good repair, and would never consider for an instant finding themselves on the other side of it. Still, I think that what concerns us at the moment may be found more to the north, and most especially, to the east."

Reedborn nodded at that assessment. "Not that whatever's amiss might not be tied up with those bad sorts to the south, but there is the Wild Forest in between. And what with Rangers being involved, I suspect our problems are from the north, likewise."

"What is your personal opinion of Rangers, Reedborn, if I may ask?" Baggins quietly inquired, as we walked along side of him. He had the lead rope of one pony in his hand, and Bobbin was right behind us leading the other. Both ponies, we had earlier decided, were best put to use bearing supplies rather than ourselves, so the four of us walked at their sides.

"I think they do more than most think," Reedborn stated emphatically, after only a moment's pause. "So many times it's them as says the least as does the most, and I think this is one of those cases. Why they do, I haven't the least idea, for they certainly don't get much in the way of thanks for it, but that's the feeling I alus had, on the few occasions that I saw one o'them up close."

"I have the greatest of confidence in your judgment," Baggins said thoughtfully, after only a moment's pause. "And I'm rather inclined to agree with you. However, that is a matter to consider once we find ourselves in their company, in Bree, I suppose. But there is a good deal of country to be covered before we find ourselves there."

Not having much to contribute to the subject of Rangers, I kept silent, and gave an occasional glance backwards, watching the Wall recede behind us, now nearly lost from sight through the stately and ancient trees that lined the sides of the Road. My limited experiences with Men had not been particularly pleasant, thus far, but I was quite willing to believe that they were not all like the villains whom I had encountered in the recent year or so. I would have hated to think that somewhere Men were judging us hobbits on the basis of the likes of Lotho Pimple.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The day's journey was uneventful, but tedious once the snow inevitably began again. Stunted pine now grew to each side, and further than that could not be seen in the white half-light. Puddles of ice had collected in the hollows of the road which had, beyond dispute, fallen into decay and disrepair. We trudged onward for the most part in silence. I kept my eye open, as afternoon wore on, for a suitable site in which to camp for the night, and fortunately found one just as the early dusk was beginning to fall. Touching Baggins' arm, I pointed it out to him, and he rewarded me with a quick glint of a smile.

"Excellent, Gamgee," he murmured. "I think that will do nicely, indeed."

Neither Reedborn, nor Bobbin, who had fallen uncharacteristically silent, were loathe to disagree, so we spent the rest of the waning evening in situating ourselves for the night. A small campfire was a necessity on such a frosty night, and the impromptu stew that Bobbin and I managed to concoct, not to mention a nicely scalding pot of strong tea, warmed all of our stomachs quite nicely and made the prospect of the cold night to come far less fearsome. Savoring the last bits on my bowl, I surveyed our company, and gave a thought to sleeping arrangements. There was no doubt but that the warmth of a companionable body could be considered an advantage on a night such as this, but our necessarily close quarters did impose some limitations that one small corner of my mind was loathe to accept. A quick glance over at Baggins, whose eyes sparkled in the firelight as he met my gaze with a quirk of a smile, confirmed that he felt the same.

"No need of a guard tonight, I would imagine," he announced suddenly, standing up with an elaborate stretch and yawn. "We are not carrying anything of import, and I doubt very much if anyone is expecting us to pass this way. How many more days would you say the journey to Bree is, Reedborn?

Reedborn, who had been gazing into the night beyond the small circle of light in which we sat, gave a bit of a start, but stood up and stretched as well. "About two more days in good weather," he answered dryly, "but this certainly ain't that. Four days, I suppose. We've supplies enough for more than that, if needs be."

Baggins nodded. "That was my estimate as well. The ponies ought to be settling down for the night soon enough, and we may as well divide ourselves up next to each of them. They will do very nicely as a wind-break."

I had very little familiarity with the animals myself, so when they soon did what Baggins had predicted, I was rather nervous as I laid thick blankets down on the frozen ground next to Bottle, as Bobbin had unaccountably named him. The other pony had been given the name of Barrel, which was at least understandable, since he was certainly as round as one. "I thought they slept standing up," I mentioned tentatively. "Are you sure they won't roll over on us, Frodo?"

He gave a short chuckle. "Not a bit of it, my dear," he murmured, since the other two had also settled down for the night and were out of hearing range. "Ponies are very companionable animals, you know, and understand a great deal. I'm quite sure that Bottle will not mind having a warm body or two at his side at all."

"If you say so, then." I still could not help but be a bit skeptical, but it was Baggins, after all, who was to lie between me and the pony, so I kept my doubts to myself.

But of course, as always, he knew what I was thinking, and as we lay down and wrapped ourselves in our woolen winter cloaks, tucking a spare one about our feet, he laughed quietly again and gave me a quick kiss on the nose, to my delight. "I sense misgivings still, Samwise. But don't forget, I grew up in Brandy Hall. The stable was one of my favorite places to be, as was indeed anywhere out of the Hall. I learned a great deal about ponies there, and I promise you that they really are invaluable creatures. Between you and Bottle, I am confident that I could not be better situated, if we must be out on a night such as this. And rest assured, Sam my dear, that tomorrow night, it will be your turn to be in this very comfortable position."

I briefly gave a thought as to how much of Baggins' past was unfamiliar to me, but left that conversation for another time. For now, I was beginning to feel warmth in every limb that had been chilled, and my hand had found his as we lay side-by-side and gazed up into the dark sky above. The night sky had cleared, and the stars shone above us with that remarkably intense dazzle they tend to have on an icy night in the absence of the moon. It was not our feather bed at Bag End, to be sure (and how delectable were those three words, I fleetingly thought), but we were together and when he turned on his side to embrace me, I felt no lack at all, as I tucked myself gratefully into his arms. "We are out of the Shire, Frodo," I murmured, apropos to nothing. And of course, he understood me completely.

"Not exactly, my dearest," I could feel his breath, warm against my ear. "I have the Shire itself in my arms. At least all of it that really matters to me."

"Oh, Frodo," I could not help but sigh, raising my face to his. He met my mouth in a long and sustained kiss, tender and ardent, all in one, and I felt my body quicken against his.

"I'm afraid we'll have to wait until Bree for that," came the amused and yet regretful whisper in my ear, as I felt him respond in kind. "But I assure you I mean to find us some privacy there, you may rest easy on that matter."

"I will hold you to that, Frodo my beloved," I replied with great firmness, molding myself to him in a manner that had already become so very familiar. "I will follow you to the end of the sun, and to the other side of the moon, but there are certain matters upon which I must insist."

"I certainly hope you do, Samwise dearest," I heard his caressing voice as I began to drift off into slumber, held as securely and tenderly as I was. "I cannot tell you how devastated I would be if you did not."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Reedborn stopped short, on the next day of our journey in the late morning, and looked about us with a bit of uncertainty. "I believe that this is the place where we found the ponies," he mentioned tentatively, "but there's really no telling with all this snow about."

Baggins surveyed the area with an expression of disappointment. "So much that could have been told to us lost, certainly for now, and most likely for good." He gave the snow drifts an irritated glance. "Was it here that you buried them, Reedborn?"

Reedborn nodded. "I believe so, in this cleared area, not far from the road."

Baggins nodded, and stood in silence, looking to all sides of us. The other two watched him with some bewilderment, but I, who was more familiar with his chain of thought, saw that he was examining the path of approach to this area, from all directions. "Definitely from the north," he murmured at last. "As we thought, Gamgee."

"See to the south?" he explained, turning to our two comrades. "The approach is flat for miles in that direction. But to the north is a different matter. Just past the clearing, the trees are tall and thick, and there is that ridge of stone that blocks any view through them. For the time being, I am under the impression that the Ranger must have been surprised. Certainly his comrades were. Tell me, Reedborn, were there any wounds on the Ranger's body? Any indication as to how he had been killed?"

Reedborn shook his head. "No more than were on the ponies," he stated flatly. "But his eyes were closed, so he looked more peaceful than they did."

Baggins glanced to the north again. "Indeed," he murmured thoughtfully.

Bobbin piped up at that point with the question that I must confess was in my mind as well. "Tell us, Mr. Baggins, do you think they will come for us likewise?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with fright.

"No, I do not," Baggins answered immediately, his voice reassuringly certain. "These attacks have thus far been connected with shipments of kingsfoil, of which we have none. And we are four unremarkable hobbits, unconnected, at this point, with any parties in Bree. I have no doubts, however, but that we are being watched."

I gave an involuntary shiver at that statement, and saw by the faces of my comrades that they were as dismayed as was I at that pronouncement.

Baggins' smile quirked up at our reaction. "Not all observation is an evil," he mentioned mildly. "I have no doubts at all that the Rangers know we are here. Other parties may as well, but who they might be, I as of yet have no evidence."

That was somewhat reassuring, but the rest of the day was an uneasy one as we continued our journey.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

By late morning on the fourth day, just as Reedborn had predicted, there were signs of habitation not far from the road. Smoke could be seen rising from smials in the snow-covered hills, and the occasional low building and shed was to be seen as well. My heart skipped a beat when I first realized that they were higher and larger than any habitation with which I was familiar. They were the homes of Men.

Baggins made a motion to stop us, and indicated a sheltered cluster of pine nearby. We followed him, curious, and Bobbin swept away some of the snow to allow the ponies to forage a bit while we paused.

"The time has come to consider our strategy in Bree," Baggins began without preamble, a cloud arising into the frigid air from his breath as he spoke. "I propose that we split into two parties, and give out that we met together by chance in Bridgeton, and decided to journey together here. We will all be staying at the same inn, the Prancing Pony; is that what you said the name was, Reedborn? We must be quite cautious, and it is imperative that we stay in contact with each other."

"You've been here before, Reedborn, so it would not be out of the ordinary to be here on reasons of business. You may insinuate that trade has been slow, and you wish to re-introduce more regular dealings between Bree and the Shire, or any other reason that you see fit to use. For the time being, make no mention of kingsfoil, but if someone approaches you on that matter, remain noncommittal. Bobbin, of course, will accompany you, and the ponies are naturally yours."

"Gamgee and I will present ourselves as mere wanderers, travelers with an interest in local lore, especially in the matter of healing herbs. Information in regards to remedies not known within the Shire will be what intrigues us the most, I believe. That may lead us in the right direction, to those who know more. Whether or not they wish to reveal what they know is an entirely different matter, of course."

"Then how will we meet, to exchange what we discover?" Reedborn asked, his weathered face indicating approval of this plan. "The tavern of the inn would be reasonable place, but 'tis a crowded and noisy room, at least the last time I was here."

Baggins thought for a moment. "If either of us has information to share with the others, we will invite each other to stop by our room and share a pipe. And if there is danger, mention that the book either you or I have been looking for has been found. And in the worst case, my friends, if something should happen to Gamgee and I, you must return to the Shire as quickly as possible and tell all you know to Saradoc Brandybuck. He will know what must be done at that point."

Reedborn nodded, as did a somber-looking Bobbin, and stamped his feet to shake some of the snow off. Blowing into his cupped hands, he rubbed them briskly to warm them. "Well then, let us be off," he announced with determination. "Be prepared to give your names at the gate, gentlehobbits, and I will lead you to the Prancing Pony. Whatever may await us there may be far less foreboding after we have had a chance to warm ourselves before a good crackling fire. I heartily recommend the local brew, but be aware, my friends, it is a potent drink."

"Excellent," Baggins gave us a brief smile. "Here's to successful hunting, my good hobbits, and a safe return to the Shire."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I made no attempt to hide my astonishment as we entered into Bree, and I could tell by Bobbin's face, at least, that he felt the same. And I knew that even Baggins, impassive though he seemingly remained at my side, had never seen the like. The great wooden wall surrounding the town gave the first indication that Bree was as much fortress as town, and once we passed the guard's close scrutiny and entered, it was as unlike any peaceful Shire village as could possibly be.

Great buildings, as much as three stories high, loomed up in the grey and sleety afternoon, timbered and ancient. The streets were clamorous, filled with dogs, ponies and carts, and both hobbits and men, as well as some other beings who I was instantly certain must be dwarves. All were going their own ways, heads down and bundled well against the chill gusts. The streets themselves were muddy and foul, with treacherous patches of ice in every hollowed rut. There were lights in the shop windows, but I had no thought to look into them, as all my attention was focused on the difficult task of trying to avoid man, hobbit, and beast, and retain my footing on the perilous thoroughfare. I glanced over at Reedborn, and with a hint of amusement, he inclined his head to the right. Not far ahead, to the side of the street, I saw with great relief the swinging sign announcing where the Prancing Pony was to be found. There was nothing, well, nearly nothing, I desired more at the moment than the shelter of a warm room and a decent fire, and my spirits immediately brightened.

Dodging a great creaking cart, pulled by two stamping black ponies and driven by a pair of well-bundled hobbits, we crossed the street as quickly as possible and reached the impressively barred door just as a flurry of snow began to drift down upon us. "Excellent timing," I heard Baggins murmur at my side, "and I must confess that no matter what we may find within, I am more than grateful to reach some shelter at last. As far as being desirable traveling weather, these last few days have been sorely lacking."

"Then you might be willing to put up with a different sort of inn than the Plucked Dove," Reedborn chucked, mentioning Bridgeton's finest. "Prepare yourselves, my good hobbits." And with that warning, he gave the doors of the Prancing Pony a hearty tug open.

Smoke was my first impression, an almost noxious mixture of pipeweed and burning logs that had merged into a veritable fog of fumes. I coughed at the unexpected onslaught, and blinked, and did my best to make out the scene within. At each side of us, as we entered, were dark hallways and doors, but directly ahead was a wide entryway, and the sound of voices and rough laughter and the clink of metal made in immediately clear that the center of the inn was located there. Bobbin remained outside with the ponies and a wistful look, and Reedborn hastily reassured him that he would not be long.

Making our way to a tall counter immediately within the entryway, we were promptly greeted by a tall man with quite a rosy beaked nose. "Good day to you, Barleycorn," Reedborn responded with alacrity and a confident grin. "Would you be remembering me, then?"

Barleycorn gave him a penetrating stare, and then a slow smile broke across the fierce face. "Reedborn, innit?" his gruff voice was clearly amused. "Bridgeton-way. Been in few years, now, I'd say. 'Tis foul weather to be out and about in, but no doubt but it's good to see you again. And your friends?'' He turned his gaze to Baggins and myself, his sharp eyes obviously committing our faces to memory.

"A pair of fellow travelers," Reedborn responded coolly. "We ended up sharing the perils of the road. Gamgee, that was the name wasn't it? And. . ." he nonchalantly motioned to Baggins to continue.

"Frodo Baggins," Baggins responded crisply. "And my friend would be Samwise Gamgee. We are desirous of a suitable room, and would be most grateful for a hot bath to be brought immediately in. This journey has not been the most pleasant, I regret to say."

"I am not surprised in the least," Barleycorn responded wryly. "Those taken in early winter so seldom are. What business brings you to our isolated town?" he added curiously, flicking a brass bell on the counter as he did so.

"Research," Baggins responded mildly, thrusting both hands in his pockets, his eyes idly roaming the room. "Herblore, that sort of thing. I expect we might be here for a bit."

"Indeed," was Barleycorn's only comment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Well, here is Ned," he added, as a tall hobbit scurried in from a side door. "Room 27, I think, Ned, and be sure to have a copper tub and hot water delivered promptly."

Baggins gave a polite bow, and turning to Reedborn, murmured, "Thank you for the pleasure of your company on the road. Do stop by our room after dinner, if you and your assistant would care for a smoke."

Reedborn returned the bow and nodded. "It would be our pleasure, Mr. Baggins."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

We followed Ned through the maze of tunnels in what was obviously the section of the inn devoted to hobbit visitors, as unlikely as that prospect seemed to me at the present. The tunnels wound into the side of the hill, the walls earthen, but seemingly coated with some sort of preservative, or perhaps it was simply the effect of age. Our way was lit with flickering candles held in sconces, and on occasion, we crossed the paths of other hobbits, most of whom appeared to be prosperous gentlefarmers, giving us curious glances. But at last we found ourselves before a brightly painted yellow door at the end of a tunnel, and Ned bowed and opened the door with a flourish.

With a dexterous use of his tinderbox, he promptly lit the candles within, and immediately saw to starting the fire, logs and tinder for which had been laid out in the fireplace in advance. We gratefully dropped our modest packs on the ground, and held our hands out to the burgeoning flames as four more hobbits appeared out of seemingly nowhere, toting heavy copper pails of steaming water. They disappeared into what was apparently a small alcove which obviously held a tub, and poured the water within, then vanishing down the hallway almost instantly and without a word. Ned gave another brief nod, and proclaimed dinner to be available for the next couple of hours, and vanished likewise. We were at last alone.

I cannot tell you how desperately I had been awaiting this chance, the opportunity to catch Baggins fiercely up in my embrace without the impediment of the company of others, however well-intentioned they might have been. And there was no doubt that Frodo had felt the same, as he eagerly swept me up and greedily returned my kiss measure for measure. It was probably some several moments, but then time, as usual, was only the vaguest of concepts when I was in his arms, before I realized the our wet garments were beginning to steam about us as we lingered, standing before the fire.

But no sooner than I had begun to reluctantly pull away, than Baggins broke his mouth from mine and gave an amused chuckle. "We can't let the effort of those good hobbits be in vain, now, can we, Samwise, my dear? There is a hot bath awaiting us, and that is exactly where we should take ourselves."

There was something about a shared bath that always brought out the most impishly amorous streak in Frodo, a fact I never quite understood, but gloried in nevertheless. The tub we found, quite fortunately, to be a spacious one, but it really would have not mattered in the least if it had not been so. Our clothing was shed as quickly as possible, and we found ourselves in the deliciously hot water in no time at all.

And then. It had been far too long in my opinion, and obviously Frodo's as well, since we had had the gift of privacy and time, and whatever the reasons we were here, whatever the dangers and trials that awaited us, none of it was of any consequence at all at this moment. What mattered was simply the bliss of the touch of his hands, the gift of his mouth on mine, the sheer and utter joy of connection, of a heated and breathtaking passion that was beyond all logic, beyond all barriers, and that merged us, in that one perfect moment, into sheer rapture.

I do not know how long we spent in the cooling water, curled comfortably together, before I gave a guilty start, and murmured into his ear, conveniently situated next to my mouth, that our companions must be waiting for us.

He gave a reluctant sigh in response, which of course delighted me beyond measure, and nodded. "I suppose you are right, Sam my love, but I must confess to feeling entirely irresponsible at the moment. You have an alarming influence over me, dearest, an inclination that no doubt I'll regret it someday, but at the moment I must admit that my chief consideration is how we could possibly have more hot water delivered without the annoyance of having someone bring it here."

"Not likely, Frodo love, but perhaps it can be arranged before we return from dinner," I laughed as I stood up in the tub and bent down to grasp his hands in order to pull him up. "We still have all the night ahead of us, me dearie, and I must admit that I am quite curious as to what Bree has to offer in the way of dinner. And of course, the strong brew that Reedborn mentioned would be worth some investigation as well."

"Always eminently practical, Sam dear," he gave a mock frown, the effect of which was entirely spoiled by the sudden kiss to my throat, "but then that is why I love you so. Eternally the voice of good hobbit common sense. Very well, my dearest of Gamgees, let us venture out into the high society of Bree, and see what may be learned from the local populace."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The central room of the Prancing Pony seemed to have become, impossibly enough, smokier in our absence, not to mention far more clamorous. It was difficult to determine who was within, so it was a relief when Bobbin suddenly materialized at our side, as we stood in the entrance, and with a wide grin announced, "Well, if it ain't the pair o'you again. Care for a pint together w'the master and me?"

Of course, we immediately assented, and followed him, with a certain amount of difficulty, to a small table tucked away on the side of the hall, under a multi-paned window revealing nothing but the dark night outside. Reedborn sat there, with a plate of something that looked, and smelled, quite delicious, and what I assumed to be a pint clutched firmly in his hand. "Find some food for our company, there's a good lad, Bobbin," he directed his young companion, handing over a piece of gold, and Bobbin promptly disappeared on his mission.

"So then, gents, what would you be thinkin' o'the Prancing Pony? Naught like the Shire, innit?" he took a deep sip, and I must admit that my throat ached for a bit of the same. I seemed to have worked up a bit of a thirst.

"Truer words," I took it upon myself to answer for the pair of us, as I noticed that Baggins was carefully studying our surroundings and paying little attention to us. "That is the strong brew that you mentioned, Reedborn?"

"Indeed it is," he answered, with a slight smack and a happy grin as he took another deep sip. "And luckily for you good sirs, it seems as if the lad has his priorities straight, as he's brought the drink afore the food."

And so he had, as Bobbin laid the two immense, heavy mugs down on the table with a resounding thump. "And now for sommat to eat," he grunted, and vanished again.

Baggins eyed the large mug with a raised eyebrow, but Reedborn seemed to answer his obvious question. "Don't come in nothing smaller," he shook his head in amusement, "but after a sip or two, you won't be mindin' that a bit."

Reedborn may have been occasionally foggy about some of his memories of Bree, but on the matter of its brew, he was absolutely point on. It was indeed delicious, with a bite that rather snuck up on one, and caused an unexpected gasp. I was quite glad when Bobbin returned with our dinners, for I could feel the warmth glowing in my empty stomach, and my fingers were beginning to become noticeably tingly.

Baggins, however, had only taken a quick sip, and had set it aside. "Don't you like it, Frodo?" I asked him, with a barely stifled hiccough.

He glanced at me, amused, and replied, "Indeed, it is delicious, Gamgee, but it is essential that we remain aware of our surroundings, and those about us. This isn't the Green Dragon, it would be well to remember."

"I know," I sighed, feeling a bit silly, "but it was such a long trip, you know, and I'm not entirely sure that my toes have thawed out yet."

His smile deepened at that remark, and he mildly responded, "Is that so? I've heard that a hot bath does wonders in curing that sort of thing. Perhaps you should look into having one tonight."

Well, that did it for me. I covered my burning face up with my mug, and it was, in my mind, quite awhile before I dared to set it down again. Fortunately, Reedborn and Bobbin had been applying themselves with gusto to their dinner, and had not apparently noticed my reaction, but I shot Baggins a warning glance all the same, to which he replied with a smile of serene satisfaction. I leaned back against the wall and began to contemplate possible retaliations once we had returned to our room.

The array of the strange and odd folk of Bree was hard to ignore for long however, and I soon found my gaze following the laughing dark-headed hobbit lass in the corner entertaining a couple of dwarves with merry tales and a coquettish bat of her eyes, a pair of tall roughly dressed men having a rather loud dispute over the respective virtues of their favorite pet dogs, although it might have been their wives, I wasn't entirely sure which. A group of the local hobbits, their feet propped comfortably up on benches, were smoking pipes with remarkably long stems and grunting an occasional word or two to each other. They gave us a few initially curious glances, but showed no signs of wishing to seek our company.

Reedborn and Baggins were conversing quietly at my side, Reedborn pointing out as many of the notables as he could remember and recognize in the crowded hall, and Bobbin on the other side of me was unmistakably nodding off over his dinner, so I busied myself with finishing my own, and returned to taking care of my pint. The brew had become, to my taste, positively ambrosial, and I was beginning to idly contemplate attempting to persuade Reedborn into setting up something in the way of an import business, to ensure a continued supply of this delightful beverage, when I suddenly noticed that Frodo was rising to his feet at my side, and making his farewells to our companions. It was obviously time to be heading back to our room for the evening.

Well, I certainly had no issues with that, so I rose as well, and began to follow Baggins from the room. But there had unexpectedly developed certain difficulties in attempting what should have been a very ordinary endeavor. The floor was suddenly oddly far away, and my head was swimming in a most alarming manner. My legs were moving far more slowly than they should have, and all noises, all voices, seemed to come, abruptly, from somewhere very far away. I might have said something to Frodo, or more likely I made some sort of improbable sound, for I saw him quickly turn around ahead of me, his expression instantly changing to one of dismay, and immediately turn back toward me, but it was too late.

I have been a fool many times in my life, there is no doubt on that score, and my dear father has been entirely in the right of it when he has, in exasperation, declared me to be a veritable ninnyhammer. But I don't think I have ever felt as foolish as the night that I tripped and fell, distinctly swozzled, at the feet of a Ranger.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not remember too much more of that evening. I do remember Baggins and Reedborn assisting me back to the room, to my utter mortification. I do remember Baggins' polite insistence to Reedborn, when I was finally deposited on the bed, that it was a matter of the fatigue of the road, and that with a good night's rest, I would be fit as ever on the morrow.

And then, once we were alone again, I remember his compassionate hand on my brow, his light touch with a cooling cloth on my face, and his gentleness in undressing me. I felt awful and, what was worse, a complete dunderpate, but he refused to hear my self-incriminations, and lay a quieting finger across my lips. "Not a word of it, Samwise," he instructed me firmly. "You were, indeed, tired, hungry, and unused to such drink. Now is the time for both of us to get some rest, and I am quite sure you will feel better about it all tomorrow. Now lie quietly, dearest, and I shall be back in a moment."

And so I lay on my side and watched him as he deftly banked the fire, snuffed out the candles, and shed his own clothing. Then I was in his arms, and I felt all care and embarrassment and misery drain from me, leaving me warm and at peace, and loving him more than ever. Sleep quickly found us both.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I stirred awake, cracking my eyes open in the white early morning light. I was deliciously warm, back against Frodo's chest, with a loving arm wrapped about me, and I could hear his rhythmic breathing behind me indicating that he was yet asleep. It wasn't until I rashly moved my head that the events of the evening before came flooding back into my memory.

The pain of that incautious move caused me to give an involuntary moan, and my companion was awake instantly. Letting me roll on my back, he propped himself up next to me, gazing at me with a simultaneously loving and amused expression. "The Prancing Pony's own leaves its mark, I see," he murmured.

I could not help but wince in agreement. Words were not something for which I cared to fumble at the moment.

Baggins smile deepened as lay a gentle hand on my forehead. "At least you were prudent enough to not leave a tribute at the Ranger's feet, my dear. I was not so prudent on a certain occasion regarding the Master of Brandy Hall. I'm quite sure he still remembers it vividly, although he has been gracious enough to have never brought it up since then."

I blinked at the confirmation of the identity of my observer, for I had not been entirely sure of whom I thought I'd seen the previous night. "He was a Ranger, then?" I found my voice, ignoring the throbbing in my head that that rash act set off.

"Apparently so, or at least according to Reedborn, and I have no doubt but that he should know. His name is Strider, I understand."

"Did he say anything?" I had to know.

"No," Baggins gave an affectionate smile, and brushed a wayward curl from my forehead. "But I have to admit he now unmistakably knows that we are in town. Possibly not a bad thing, actually. We shall give it some time and see what becomes of it."

"But waiting is not a talent of mine," his voice suddenly turned brisk and he swung his legs out of bed. "You need something in your stomach, my dear Gamgee, and that headache will soon be on its way. You may be the healer, but mine is the voice of experience; trust me on this particular matter."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Baggins was entirely right, of course. Once we had dispatched a substantial combined first and second breakfast, in deference to local custom, I was beginning to feel far more like myself once again. So when Baggins proposed a walking tour of Bree, to acquaint ourselves with this interesting locale, I had no objections.

Snow was holding off for the moment, as we set to the streets, but clearly not for long. The air was frigid, and the occasional blast of air from the north would whip our cloaks smartly about us. Once again, the patches of ice on the gutted surface of the slushy streets demanded one's full attention, if one proceeded by foot, and it was difficult to gaze much about us. But I did notice that the varied array of residents of Bree seemed to keep their affairs to themselves. There was little of the camaraderie or cheerful greeting that one would find on the streets of any village in the Shire. It was difficult to determine if it was simply the nature of the folk hereabouts, or if the town contained a sizeable contingent of strangers such as ourselves.

I quietly mentioned as much to Baggins, as we strode closely together down one street after another, and he gave a nod of agreement. "I thought there might be a hobbit or two who would stop by our table at the inn, last night, to greet or at least pose a question or two of us, but there were none so inclined. A tight-lipped lot, to be sure, and quite possibly for very good reasons. Isn't it odd, Gamgee, how the far side of Bree is so very less fortified than the side facing the Road?" he changed the subject abruptly and stopped near a sheltering wall to draw his pipe from his pocket. "Apparently, they have little fear of danger from the north. Another indication that the Rangers are to be considered quite efficient, I would surmise."

The pipe was tempting, but I did not feel sufficiently courageous to attempt it just yet, so I shoved my hands in my pockets and nodded agreement. "It is rather difficult to credit Rangers being as dangerous a folk as some in the Shire would have one believe if they sit peaceably about in crowded taverns of an evening," I mentioned, stamping my feet slightly to keep them warm.

Baggins gave a chuckle of concurrence. "Succinct as ever, Gamgee, my dear," he murmured. "Well, let us just continue out a bit more, and then head back. Perhaps Reedborn may be able to direct our steps in a more productive manner this afternoon."

We continued down the streets, which were gradually turning into muddy lanes. It wasn't too long before I quietly mentioned to Baggins that it had been quite awhile since I had noticed a smial.

Baggins nodded, and murmured, "I observed the same myself. Perhaps it would be prudent to retrace our steps back to the inn."

We had, at this point, ranged far from the town of Bree proper, and into what appeared to be meager farms which clearly, from the size of the shabby dwellings, belonged to men. Already, I had perceived that we were on the receiving end of some distinctly unfriendly stares, and had begun to realize that there were some generally understood conventions in Bree, and that we had run afoul of them. Baggins, far better than myself at hiding any discomfort at the situation in which we had found ourselves, gave a cool glance about, and with a nod and private smile, as if he had found what he had intended to find, turned about and began to walk briskly back in the direction in which we had come.

With a certain amount of alarm, I noticed that there were more observers now, as we re-traced our steps, than had originally been out in the cold morning. Some of the men were leaning against their weathered wooden fences and smoking pipes of their own as we passed, an unlikely pastime on such a frigid morning, and the expressions on their faces left no doubt that we were the center of their unfriendly attention. It was as we passed one particularly ill-favored specimen, his face apparently twisted in a permanent sneer, that I noticed the unfortunate pony and gave an involuntary exclamation of dismay.

The bony grey mill-pony, his head bowed in obvious misery, was tethered to the central stump in the center in a ring of well-trodden snow. Some bits of vegetation were still to be seen under the dusting of snow, but they were out of reach of the unfortunate beast. And yet he kept straining toward them, clearly desperate for food.

"Well, now, Ferny," came the scornful drawl as the neighbor of the pony's owner, apparently looking for a bit of amusement, crossed the lane to join him. "Looks like these wee little men don't care too much for the way you treat your own property."

Ferny gave a grunt at that comment. "I'm not seeing where they've aught to say about it," he growled, with an ominous move in our direction. "Unless they're looking t'take this sorry beast off of my hands, they best be on their way and right quickly, at that."

I'm not quite sure why the pony's unfortunate fate hit me quite so hard, but I do know that I never gave a second thought to the matter before the words blurted out of my mouth. "Perhaps that is exactly what we are looking to do," I responded angrily. "What is your price, sir?"

Both men immediately guffawed at my response, and the first nudged Ferny in the ribs. "Well, there you go! And wasn't you just a-sayin' as you were on the look-out for a new pony, since this one was a worthless sorry nag? But these fine judges of pony-flesh seem to think different, now, don't they?"

Ferny gave another grunt, seemingly his preferred means of communication. "Very well then, my little man," he finally removed his pipe long enough from his mouth to answer. "If you've the price, the beast is all yours," and he named an amount that was clearly exorbitant.

But I was of no mind to negotiate and the fellow was, I don't mind admitting, enraging me. I nodded shortly, and pulled my purse from my pocket, counting out all that it contained. It was slightly less than what the farmer had asked, but without a word, Baggins, who had been witnessing this exchange attentively, withdrew the balance from his own pocket and added it to mine. Upon receipt of the purse, both men burst into gales of raucous laughter, and Ferny picked up a rusty axe that was leaning next to the stump, bringing it down on the rope. Handing the frayed end to me with mock politesse, he bowed in derision. "Any time you fine gentlemen wish to do more business with me, you come right on by. I've a few chickens in the shed as are doing poorly, if you're in the market for something smaller."

I furiously snatched up the rope, and started back down the road without a look back, Baggins at my side.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

By the time we were out of sight of that wretched farm and its miserable inhabitants, we were re-entering the outskirts of Bree, and Baggins, still silent, pulled me into the first side street where he gave me a resounding kiss, to the astonishment of the few passers-by. "Well done, Gamgee, my dear, really, quite well done! Now let us examine this unfortunate beast." The pony, head still down and his breathing labored, stood in silence and gave us not a glance. "Hmm," Baggins frowned, as he laid a gentle hand on the pony's ribcage and listened to the poor creature's breathing. "I must tell you, my dear, this pony is in rather a bad way. Still, one never knows." With that, he drew an apple out of his pocket and handed it over to me. "I pocketed this at breakfast, in case you were feeling a bit peckish later, but this unlucky animal clearly needs it more. But he is yours, now, Sam, so you should give it to him." And he tossed it lightly over to me.

Not quite knowing what else to do, I stroked the pony's matted head and held the apple out to him. "Here you go, m'dear," I murmured, not quite sure if the animal would take it. "Don't you worry now, Bill, dearie, you've seen the last of that villain."

The pony stood silent for a moment, but his nostrils flared, and then before I knew it, he had cautiously snatched the apple from my outstretched hand, and was munching greedily on it. It was gone in no time, but Bill gave a snort of satisfaction as he finished it, and then for the first time, his eyes met mine.

"Ah," Baggins said at my side with quiet approval, "he may turn out all right after all. Bill, is he?"

I reddened slightly, but continued to stroke the beast. "Just seemed the proper name, somehow," I said, slightly gruffly.

"Quite right. Well, it's time we take him back to the inn then. We should be able to stable him along with Barrel and Bottle, and with luck, fatten him up in time to take him back to the Shire with us."

As we started back to the inn, though, a sudden thought struck me. "Frodo!" I could not help but blurt out, turning to him stricken. "That was most of our traveling funds that I handed over to that scoundrel! I just never thought, my dear!"

Baggins chuckled and wrapped an arm tightly about my shoulders. "Of course you didn't, Samwise, which is precisely why I love you so. I'll see if Reedborn does not know of somewhere we can get a small loan, should we need it. He has been here on business often enough. Don't fret, my dearest Gamgee. I'm sure Bill will turn out to be worth far more than we ever paid for him."

And little did either of us realize at the time how prophetic those words were to be.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

We found Reedborn impatiently awaiting us when we reached the Prancing Pony, a short while later. "Where is Bobbin?" he asked with dismay, his face falling, as he greeted us in the entryway. "Is he not with you?"

"Not at all," Baggins swiftly answered. "Have you not seen him today?"

"No, not since breakfast," Reedborn replied, with obvious dismay. "This is not the sort of place for a young lad to be alone in, and I don't mind tellin' you that I'm that worried. But that ain't all. Let's head to your room, and I don't mind who sees us."

"Just a moment," Baggins held up a cautionary hand. "We now have another member of our party to be accounted for. Gamgee has acquired a pony."

Reedborn directed a startled glance in my direction. "Well, yes, it was rather unexpected," I muttered. "Don't worry, I'll see to Bill and join you both in a bit."

Baggins clasped my shoulder tightly, for a moment, and then headed down the long hallway with Reedborn, as I looked anxiously about for Ned. Barleyman's assistant soon appeared, trotting in from what I assumed were the kitchens, as he had a steaming platter in one hand and a kettle in the other. "Master Gamgee," he gave me a friendly bow, pausing for a moment in the process of discharging his duties.

"Ehrm, yes, actually I was looking for you," I began, hesitantly. "I've a lad, outside, holding on to a pony for me, and I was wondering if he could join Reedborn's pair for a bit, while we stay here. And he'd be needing something to eat, whatever it is that ponies eat, fairly quickly, for he's on the thin side, you see."

Ned's face justifiably registered confusion at this rambling response, but he gave a affable nod, and promptly collaring an assistant, sent him off with the platter and kettle, and followed me outdoors.

There was no question but that his face fell when he saw Bill. "Ah, the poor creature," he muttered, and turned to me with a definite trace of anger in his face. " 'Twas no hobbit you got this pony from," he stated flatly, and I saw no point in dissembling.

"Indeed not," I agreed quickly. "But I must confess to not knowing much about ponies, and so don't really know what to ask for, in order to help the poor animal out. Whatever food that would be the most nutritious, I should think, and of course a warm place to stay. Our friend, Reedborn, has a couple of ponies here as well, and it would be desirable if Bill could be placed near to them."

"Yes, that could be arranged," Ned assured me, his jaw set with determination. "I've a bit of dried summer hay still set aside, and some oats and carrots would go a long way to helping restore him to health. Follow me, Mr. Gamgee, and let's just see if we can't make the unfortunate creature comfortable."

Heartened, I followed Ned to the stables.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The stables were set back at the end of a side street from the inn itself, and consisted of a square courtyard set about with several large sheds and an enormous high-raftered barn. It was into the latter that I followed Ned, rope and pony in hand. There were a couple of men and several hobbits inside who all gave startled looks at Bill as he followed me inside. "Hoy, there, Nob," Ned called out, and an elderly hobbit immediately answered.

"One of our guests, Mr. Gamgee here, has just acquired a new pony," he told Nob, with emphasis on the recent timing portion of that statement. "And as you can see, he wants some extra attention. I'd appreciate it if you would see what can be done for, was it Bill?" he turned questioningly back to me.

I nodded, appreciating his explanation, and heard one of the men behind me say softly to the hobbit standing next to him, "I'll warrant I know where he came from, too. 'Tis a good thing if that bit of vermin has one less pony to abuse, although I doubt it'll be for long, more's the pity."

Ned gave me a slight bow then and added, "If there's naught else, Mr. Gamgee, I'll be off then." He started out the doorway of the barn, and then stopped and motioned me to him. "There'll be no charge for Bill," he said softly, as I joined him, his dark eyes studying me carefully. "I'll see to that. 'Twas a real kindness as you did, Mr. Gamgee, and I'm sure it cost you plenty." And he was gone before I could properly thank him.

It was only as I followed Nob, still leading Bill behind me, that I had an opportunity to look around at the building itself. The barn was huge, the beams high overhead, stockpiled with great bales of dried hay and straw. There were stalls for ponies and even the occasional larger version of animal that I knew to be a horse, although I'd never actually seen one before. There were a number of cows in larger stalls to one side, presumably to provide milk for the inn's guests, and I could hear an occasional squeal and a cackle or two in the background, which assured me that there were other animals tucked away here as well. Great lanterns, securely fastened high on the thick wooden posts, cast a warm golden gleam inside, and one could not have told whether it was day or night without.

With the hay acting as a sort of insulation, not to mention the warmth of all the barn's inhabitants, it was comfortably warm inside the barn, and indeed, the hobbits and men who worked inside were obviously comfortable in rolled shirt sleeves, and no jacket necessary. Nob had led me, as I had been staring about, to a larger stall over on the side of the barn where Barrel and Bottle were housed comfortably together, peacefully munching on some hay in a low rack. "Let's just see how they get on, first," Nob muttered, taking the rope from me and leading Bill into the stall as well.

The two black ponies stopped eating at the entrance of the newcomer, and walked over to him, sniffing him and bumping him gently with their noses as Bill stood there, head down and trembling slightly, although from hunger or fright, I could not tell. Apparently, though, the newcomer was found to be acceptable, since they then returned to their feed and, moving slightly to the side, allowed Bill to join them.

"Ah, look now," Nob exclaimed with pleasure. "They took right to him, they did. Well, then, I'll find some special treats for him, and t'other two will be havin' the benefit of them likewise. You can go now, Mr. Gamgee, Bill here will be on his feet in no time."

As much as I was eager to rejoin Baggins and Reedborn though, I lingered another moment as Nob left on his mission. "I'll be back later, Bill me dear, to see how you're getting on. Don't you worry none, me lad," I whispered into his ear, stoking his head affectionately. "The hard times are past you now."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I met Baggins and Reedborn walking quickly up the street from the inn, as I made my way from the stables. As soon as they saw me, Reedborn paused, and allowed Baggins to catch up with me. "Bill squared away nicely?" he asked, grasping my shoulder with an affectionate grip.

I nodded, and then his face clouded over slightly. "It seems as if this Ranger has requested to see me alone, or with only Reedborn, I should say. I'm afraid I shall have to point out to him that I keep no secrets from you, and that he either gets the both of us or neither."

I regret to say I felt foolish all over again, though I desperately tried to keep it out of my voice. "No, really, Baggins, that's perfectly all right. I shouldn't mind a bit of a rest."

But Baggins' return glance looked right through my feeble subterfuge. "As I mentioned, Gamgee," he stated quietly but firmly, "he will take us on as a pair or not at all. He will quickly learn how invaluable you are. However, in the meanwhile, perhaps you wouldn't mind having a look for Bobbin? Apparently he went out, to have a look about this morning, and Reedborn hasn't seen him since. I don't mind admitting that his absence worries me."

"Indeed, that is a matter for concern," I agreed instantly, immediately forgetting my petty hurts. "I will do so, indeed. When do you expect to be back?"

"Before dinner, if not earlier. Meet me in our room." He withdrew his hand and gave me a rueful smile. "I promise you, my dear, this Ranger will know your worth soon enough," he spoke softly. "I certainly do. Take care, Samwise. This is not a tranquil town, no, not by any means, and it would be well to keep our wits about us."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

By the time I set off to look about for the fourth member of our party, it had begun to snow again. It was not much after noon, but the sky was grey and leaden, and the gusts of wind brought the swirls of snow through the dreary streets of Bree. I wandered up one street and down the next, marveling on how large this town actually was. There were shops the likes of which I had never seen before, and it would have been easy to let my curiosity get the best of me. But no, there was a young lad to be found, and I tried to think of what would have attracted my own attention ten years or so ago. As I walked down one crowded, dirty street to the next, however, I began to realize what a hopeless task this truly was. With no-one to ask, and no inkling of what might have caught his interest, there was really no hope.

So I couldn't have been more amazed when a grimy young hobbit lad, scarcely more than a fauntling, appeared at my elbow somehow, respectfully tugging at my sleeve. "Your pardons, good gentlehobbit," he piped shrilly up. "This'd be for you." And a small scrap of paper was thrust into my hand. But before I could react, or indeed ask any questions, the lad was gone, disappearing back into the crowd. I quickly glanced at the scrap of paper and found this message.

"To Misters Baggins and Gamgee," it said. "Don't worry about me. I've found something of interest, and I'll be back by tomorrow to tell you all." There was no signature.

Of course it must have been from Bobbin, and I felt relief chase the worry away. It was mid-afternoon by this time, and I suddenly felt that there was no better place I could be than back in our room. Possibly in a tub of hot water, or perhaps just taking a quick nap in a comfortable bed; both options seemed immensely appealing. I had been cautious enough in carefully remembering my route back to the Prancing Pony, but as I headed down a narrow ramshackle street, the display in one of the shop windows suddenly caught my eye.

I doubt that many would have found it interesting, but in my particular line of work, I must admit it was the sort of thing I rarely saw. The shop appeared to specialize in various healing herbs, and the window display of neatly stacked small jars was revelatory. I don't think I've ever seen such a wide variety of medicinal powders and tinctures, and there was nothing for it but that I must step inside.

The shop was dim and chilled, and initially, for all I could tell, entirely devoid of life. But a small bell had tingled somewhere in the distance, as I had entered, and presently an extremely old and wrinkled hobbit drew aside a dingy curtain on the back wall, and slowly shuffled his way to the counter. "Might I be helping you with aught, my good sir?" he asked, in a voice that was nearly as much a wheeze as speech.

Quickly, my thoughts flew back to Bill, and I thought of some herbs that might do him a bit of good. Hesitantly, I mentioned them, realizing that since I had no funds with me, I would have to return at a later time to actually purchase them.

As I mentioned them, however, the elderly hobbit's attention began to wane. I suspected that my request had been too prosaic for his tastes, but he shrugged, and pointed to a wall of drawers on the far side of the small shop. "They are all in letter order," he mumbled, barely stifling a yawn. "Let me know if there is sommat you can't find."

I walked over to the neatly labeled drawers and gazed at them with unmistakable envy. What a resource to be sure, and how I wished at once, that something of the sort was to be found in Hobbiton. The herbs of which I had thought, in order to mix into a soothing poultice for Bill, were there, of course. And then a sudden inspiration struck me. Would this shop have been one of the purchasers of the shipment that had been the cause of all this stir, kingsfoil?

Eagerly, my eye traveled to the proper place in the alphabet and there, exactly where the leaf should have been, was an empty drawer. I opened it cautiously. Inside were only a few traces of dried green, but as I brought one of the remnants to my nose and smelled it, I recognized it immediately for kingsfoil. Apparently the shop had once stocked it but no longer did. A very curious omission for such an extensive inventory.

As casually as I could manage, I wandered back over to the clearly bored proprietor and asked, "Tell me, you wouldn't happen to stock kingsfoil, would you?"

A simple question, one would think, but the effect was dramatic, to say the least. The elderly hobbit blanched, and feebly clutched the counter. "Of course not, why would we have such a thing?" he stammered, staring at me fearfully. "Who said we had that sort of weed in store here?"

"Why, no one, really," I murmured, taken aback by his reaction. "But it does calm a fever rather nicely, and I just thought. . ."

"Well, I can tell by your speech that you are a stranger here," he interrupted me sternly, his face clearing however. "You'd best not be mentioning that particular herb in these parts, sir. Not that you ain't right about its way with a fever, but, well, that is all. Good day, sir!" And without another word, he disappeared into the back of the shop and I, thoughtfully, made my way back to the Prancing Pony.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Reedborn was pacing back and forth in front of the inn, obviously awaiting my arrival. "No news of Bobbin?" he asked quickly, his face falling when he saw that I was unaccompanied.

"Not to worry," I reassured him at once, withdrawing the scrap of paper from my pocket. "Bobbin wrote us a message."

But rather than reassuring Reedborn, my words seemed to have the opposite effect, and I quickly realized why. "Bobbin can't read nor write," Reedborn murmured as he stared at the paper, the worry on his face stark. "Who is sending that message in his name, and more to the point, who here knows your name and that of Baggins?"

I stared at him in sudden alarm. Who, indeed, I thought, and I felt my heart skip a beat with fear. "Where is Baggins?" I asked, my voice harsh with unanticipated fear.

"I left him on the street with Strider," he reassured me hastily. "As long as he is with him, you need not worry, I assure you. It is Bobbin who concerns me now. There are some with whom I might check, and I best do it now. Just stay here, Gamgee, and I'm sure Baggins will be along before nightfall."

But he wasn't. The daylight gradually faded, as I watched it from the window of our room, and I could not help, as time dragged on, abusing myself with the conviction that I should have gone with him, no matter what. Nothing would change the fact, however, that I hadn't.

I ordered dinner and sat, quite alone, in the main room of the Prancing Pony, intently watching the door and eating not a bit of it, but he did not appear. I returned to our room, and kindled the fire, and paced the room until I though I should go mad, but still he did not come. I ordered a hot bath, but did not get into it, and stared out of the window into the dark night without, and yet still he did not return. At last, quite desperate, I visited Bill in the stables. I could not go to bed until I had done so.


	4. Chapter 4

I must have fallen asleep, but I certainly don't remember when. After seeing to Bill, and cementing his camaraderie with Bottle and Barrel by bringing each of them an apple, I made my way to the common room of the Prancing Pony, and found a secluded seat where I could await the arrival of any one of my companions as I ate. The food was more than passable, without a doubt, but I could eat very little as the hours dragged by and neither Bobbin, nor Reedborn, and especially, not even Baggins made his appearance. The crowd of hobbits in the room continued to be unapproachable and unfriendly, and naturally enough, I did not even think of entering into conversation with any of the men.

Finally, I left for our room, and stood before the cold fireplace in a positive fog of worry, regret, and most especially, fear. I have rarely felt quite so alone as I did that night, in that strange town, at least a hundred miles from all my family and friends. Not to mention there was Frodo's absence, and I vowed savagely to myself to not let him out of my sight again, whatever the Ranger's personal opinions might be on the matter. If it meant ensconcing myself on the doorstep, then so be it. I saw no particular reason why this Strider should be able to dictate where I came and went, at least when it came to the matter of accompanying Baggins. Slowly, I sank to the hearth rug, staring into the cold fireplace and torn between frustration and fear, as time crept on. At last, I suppose, I must have given into sleep.

It was a gentle hand on my shoulder, and a warm murmur above me that woke me at last. "I should have thought the bed preferable, but then there's no accounting for tastes, I suppose."

"Oh, Frodo!" I gasped, fully awaking with a start and immediately wrapping my arms around his fervently longed-for form. "Oh, my dear, my dear!"

"There now, Samwise," his voice was immediately sympathetic and slightly apologetic, as he held me tightly, kneeling at my side. "I know I must have caused you concern, and I'm most sorry for that, my dearest Gamgee. I've much to tell you, but now is not the time. Any news of our companions?"

I mutely shook my head, still unabashedly clutching him closely to me.

He gave a slight sigh at that piece of information, and then nodded his head resolutely. "Well, there is naught to be done on that matter until the morning. It's best that we be getting some rest now, for we surely will need it come tomorrow. And I might add, my dear Samwise, this is an infernally frosty room. Here I thought to thaw out my toes a bit, but it is possibly every bit as cold in here as out in that frigid night."

This did have the possibly anticipated effect of causing me to scramble to my feet with a guilty start, but he gave a slow smile, and placing firm hands upon my shoulders, guided me unresistingly back to the bed. "No, not this time, Sam dear. I suspect you have not had the best of days, and I can at least make amends ever so slightly. Wrap yourself up in a blanket or two, and I will see to the fire. We don't need much of one actually, but warming the room up even a trifle will make an immense difference, I am quite sure."

I did not have it in me to disagree with his recommendation in the least, so I quickly found myself on the bed, well bundled in blankets, and blissfully watching that lean graceful figure as he bent over the hearth, and expertly coaxed a small tidy fire into being. Only a few moments later, we had shed our clothing and sat together on the bed, now both wrapped in the blankets and with arms tightly wrapped about each other, as we felt the warmth of those modest flames gradually ease into our cold and tired limbs. I had questions by the score, but knew that tomorrow would answer them soon enough. And now, there was really nothing more to be considered other than we had time and privacy, and I no more felt like sleeping at this moment than making another dramatic turn in the common room.

"Frodo," I whispered, and knew that I had no need to finish that question. He turned to me without a word, and tightened his arms about me, and his mouth found mine. Ah, the taste of his sweet mouth on mine; I've never had the words for its effect on me. All I know is that my heart leaped up with a fierce joy, and I fell onto my back, pulling him over me. No burden was ever so ardently desired as the weight of my dearly beloved, as he lay over me, and took me passionately into his hands. I know I cried out in ecstasy, that I moaned and sighed words that may or may not have made any sense, but he understood. He always did.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I was awakened, quite early the next morning, by Frodo easing himself to the edge of the bed. I gave a muffled protest, reaching quickly out for him, but he gave me a consoling kiss and regretful hug, and left the warm nest we had made under the coverings, to my great regret.

"A thousand apologies, my dearest Sam," I heard him say contritely, as I groggily opened my eyes, "but this will be a busy day indeed. I must put some of the pieces of this puzzle together, and there is no better way than laying it out before you. We must be off to breakfast, my dear."

I kept to myself my new resolution that he was not going to be far from my ken as long as we were in Bree, and popped my head out, giving him an ostensibly displeased eye. "It's hardly dawn, Frodo. Surely there is no need to race the good folk of Bree to first breakfast?"

"You may have noticed that the common room tends to be a bit on the crowded side, Gamgee," came his amused retort, as he started to pull his clothing back on from the pile in which it had been unceremoniously tossed the night before. "Bree is a fairly sizable town, to be sure, but I have a feeling that this fact does not speak well of the quality of any competing hostelries. If we want to have any privacy at all as we eat, now would be the time. And I don't mind mentioning that Rangers apparently have little concept as to the eating requirements of hobbits. I am absolutely famished, I assure you."

Certainly my curiosity was piqued by that remark, so I quickly joined him in dressing, but before we left the room, I drew him to me for a last lingering kiss. "I suspect this will have to hold us for at least the day," I murmured in explanation, "but we can at least have this."

His dark blue eyes studied me with sudden warmth as we still remained in an embrace. "Entirely right, Samwise, my dear. However, I don't particularly have any concerns regarding the sensibilities of any of the folk here, so if you care to repeat this action at any time during the day, do feel free. I suspect it would not come as a great shock, at least to our companions."

I laughed, as we left the room, and could not help but happily retort, "I will hold you to that, Frodo. Have a care, my love."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

We found ourselves a smaller table on the hobbit side of the cavernous room, and I found I was correct in estimating the general hour for breakfast dining for the local inhabitants. There were few in the room, and in general, those who were present were hobbits. A quick glance out of one of the diamond-paned windows gave me another reason. It was snowing once again, and fairly heavily too. With any luck at all, our travels this day would not take us far, but I did not mind admitting to myself that both the absence of Reedborn, and especially that of Bobbin, were concerning me a good deal.

We ordered our meal, and Ned, who indeed seemed to be ever at hand, brought it promptly along with an unrequested bunch of carrots. "For afters," he added, with a sly wink, and was gone before I could thank him.

"I surmise that Bill has found an additional champion," Baggins smiled at the nontraditional addition to our breakfast. "But tell me first, Gamgee, before I lay the facts out before you. What information did you uncovered yesterday?"

In between bites of a most excellent sausage and potatoes, I told him of my visit to the herb-seller's establishment, and the note that was purportedly from Bobbin.

"Most interesting, on both accounts," he leaned eagerly forward, steepling his hands together, with his food characteristically cooling forgotten before him. "You still have the note, of course?"

"Indeed I do, and I will be more than happy to hand it over to you as soon as you finish breakfast," I stated rather sharply, biting into another piece of well-buttered toast. "I need not remind you of the need to keep your strength up, I should hope."

"You have an admirable point, my dear Gamgee," he admitted, the side of his mouth crooking up into a wry smile. "I stand admonished. Very well, let me consider where these two new pieces fit into this complex puzzle, as I finish. No more questions until I am through, I promise you."

He was as good as his word, but it was not long before we both were leaning back comfortably with our backs against the wall, side by side on the bench, and sipping the hot tea, a pair of well-cleaned plates before us.

"Let us start," Baggins began quietly, his eye on those coming and going before us, "with the reason we are here. The fact that our names were known to whoever wrote that note does not, now, surprise me in the least. Apparently our friend Reedborn was not entirely forthcoming as to why he came to us on this particular matter."

"What is this, Frodo?" I turned to him in astonishment. "Is he not to be trusted?"

"Nothing he said was a lie," Baggins replied carefully, "but there was information which he did not reveal. It seems that Reedborn and the Ranger, Strider, had met previously here in Bree on this particular matter, and each had their own reasons for wishing us to become involved. Reedborn was for the most part impressed with the Nethercleft affair, and thought we would be just the sort to puzzle this matter out, but Strider apparently had another motive. I have not entirely pieced it together yet, but it seems as though there is a connection through Bilbo, and thus, me. Do you remember, Gamgee, that imbroglio in which Lotho was involved?"

Silently I nodded, mystified as to the connection with the matter in which we were currently involved.

"Do you remember how they ransacked Bag End, apparently convinced that there was some object of value there?" Frodo continued quietly, his expression somewhat distant. "What if Bilbo had indeed brought something of value back? Something so extraordinary that even he was not aware of its true worth? Apparently, the Rangers seem to feel that this might be the case."

"But if that were so, whyever would they wish us to come all the way out to Bree? Why did they not just stop by and ask to poke about a bit? I'm quite sure neither of us would have declined that request."

"I can just imagine your expression if that unlikely event actually had occurred, Gamgee," Baggins took a deep sip of tea and set the mug down with a distinctly amused glance toward me. "The thing of it is that they do not know the nature of the object, as of yet, so it would be difficult to find. I think Strider is now assured that neither of us is aware of possessing anything out of the ordinary, as well. But whatever it is, it is connected in some way in this matter of the kingsfoil."

"Now that is what has me stumped," I had to admit. "An ordinary type of weed, although I must admit it can be a bit difficult to find in certain parts, and useful enough for some sorts of fevers, but valuable enough for which to commit murder? I confess that I am entirely at a loss as to why that would be so."

"Ah, but you see, Gamgee, that is not exactly it," Baggins exclaimed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "If it were valuable, the shopkeeper you met would be hoarding it, rather than being fearful at its very mention. And the bundles of it that were being imported into Bree would have been spirited away rather than being, as they were, burned. No, my dear, it is not that it's valuable, but rather it's dangerous in some manner."

"By the Lady," I exclaimed in astonishment. "How? And to whom?"

"Precisely, Gamgee. Those are the very two points that want answering, are they not? In addition, of course, as to what the connection is to the both of us in this matter."

"Well, what did this Ranger fellow have to say?"

"Frankly, not much more than what I have told you. He did mention, however, that there are certain legends, or at least he had always considered them so, regarding kingsfoil, which he referred to as altheas."

"Altheas?" I couldn't help but scratch my head. "An odd name. Sounds elvish, if you ask me."

"Exactly what I thought. And there is the fact that they are with whom Bilbo presumably now resides. A mysterious web of coincidences, don't you think? However, for the moment, our first order of business is to meet with Strider again, and this time your presence is requested as well, my dear Gamgee. I have assured him that your knowledge of herblore is extensive, which indeed it is, my dear, and you most definitely should be included in any future discussions. We must ascertain who in Bree originally requested the shipments, and why were other parties so determined to ensure that they did not reach their destination."

"And where is Bobbin, not to mention Reedborn?" I prompted him.

"Absolutely. And now that you mention that point, let us have a look at the note that was given to you."

I handed it over to him, and after carefully examining the paper itself by holding it up to the light, he spread it out on the table and studied it intently. "Not too much knowledge to be gained from this other than it was written by an educated resident of Bree who has a certain amount of background knowledge regarding both of us."

"How do you know that, Baggins," I asked in surprise.

"Well, of course, there is Reedborn's word for it that Bobbin does not read or write. But in any case, the handwriting is clearly not his. It is firm and even, the mark of a practiced writer, and note the curious tail on the letter s. I have observed that characteristic in the writing I've seen thus far in Bree, but it is a trait certainly not to be found in the Shire. And as for knowledge regarding ourselves, notice that the writer knows to address you by the name 'Samwise' rather than the more common 'Sam'. I believe both Reedborn and Bobbin refer to you by the latter, if they ever use a given name, but the writer apparently knows otherwise. It is essential, therefore, that we determine what further information the Ranger can give us concerning this matter. But we have a nourishing treat to deliver first, do we not, Gamgee? And then we are off."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The wind bit savagely at our legs as we stepped out of the warm inn into the snowy morning, and I began to suspect that men had the right idea, in weather such as this, with those odd coverings they put on their feet. However, we were not initially going far, rather just down the adjoining street to the inn's stables. "How," I tried to get the words out in the blustery wind, adjusting the woolen scarf I had prudently decided to wear that morning around my face as I stamped through the snow beside Baggins, "are we going to find this Ranger? Does he have a regular home here?"

"Regarding the home, I have no information," Baggins stepped lightly through the drifts at my side, remaining as unconcerned as if it were but a brisk autumn day. "However, the Ranger will find us, and quite soon, I assure you."

I had no time to ask more, for we had thankfully arrived at the stable, and the welcome warmth and light as we entered was delight down to my very bones. Nob had hastened to greet us as we entered, and quickly led us to where our ponies were stalled with a look of pride on his honest face. "Now look at that, Mister Gamgee," he exclaimed, with a flourish in Bill's direction. "I ask you if that pony just ain't a treat t'see. I must admit, sir, yesterday it didn't look so good as far as I could tell. But now, just look at him!"

Indeed, the difference was dramatic. The pony's head was up, and his dark eyes were bright. And when he saw us approach, he lifted his head and gave a greeting nicker, and a hearty snort. "Why, Gamgee, this is amazing!" exclaimed Baggins with transparent delight. "I never would have credited it. It's very nearly impossible to see the mistreated creature you saved just but yesterday in this pony before us! But look, he knows you brought something for him." And indeed, Bill gave me a direct look and if ponies could be said to smile, well, that's just what he was doing.

Of course I promptly handed over the bunch of carrots, not forgetting to pass a few Barrel and Bottle's way as well, even though rounder ponies than those two it was nearly impossible to imagine. As the pony greedily made short work of his treat, I stood at his side, and patted him fondly, thinking that whatever else might occur in this gloomy town of Bree, that at least this had gone right. Perhaps that's why I never heard him approach, but when I glanced over at Baggins, I saw with a start that the tall Ranger was standing at his side.

"Come," he said in a soft voice that yet brooked no dissent. "There is much to discuss. But the place is not here." And without another word, he pulled the hood of his cloak well over his face and left the stable, very nearly disappearing into the swirls of icy snow. Without a word, Baggins and I followed, but not before I discreetly slipped my hand into that of Baggins. His welcome firm clasp in return was all the reassurance I needed.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I certainly had no knowledge of the streets of Bree as of yet, but I quickly surmised that we were not headed in the same direction in which Baggins and I had found ourselves traveling the day before. Instead of the small farms, in which we had found Bill as well as the unfriendly farmers, we seemed to be headed to the outskirts of Bree and it was not long before I realized that we were headed into the hilly side of town. My spirits were encouraged by that observation, for surely, that is where the hobbits of this town would dwell. My guess was shortly proven correct, as Strider stopped before a brightly painted round door set into the side of a steep hill, set well back from the road.

With a sharp rap, the man awaited an answer rather impatiently, as if he visited this particular smial on a regular basis. As indeed he did, as I soon found out, when the door was promptly opened, and the resident greeted us with pleasure. To my astonishment, it was Ned himself, from the Prancing Pony, who opened the door and cheerfully urged us in out of the storm. "You know the Ranger?" I couldn't help but blurt out in astonishment, as he closed the door smartly behind me.

"Bree is a rather small town, Master Gamgee," the elderly hobbit's voice was grave, but his expression was otherwise, as he and Strider exchanged a glance of amusement. "What's more, I believe there's another here whom you might know likewise."

I could not suppress a cry of delight at seeing the welcome fresh countenance of Bobbin as he stood beaming behind Ned. "Oh, lad, you gave us such a scare," I exclaimed in utter relief, as I threw an arm around his bony young shoulders.

" 'Tis sorry I am for that," the young hobbit looked properly apologetic, "but both Mr. Ned and Mr. Strider, here, thought as I was in a bad spot alone. They told me they sent a note to the both of you, though."

"Not exactly reassuring when it was known to not be you who wrote it," Baggins remarked dryly, although unable to resist a warm smile at the sight of the young hobbit. "And where is Reedborn?"

"That I do not know," Ned admitted, his face instantly tightening a bit with worry. "But why are we all nattering in the hallway? We need to think this out over a pot of hot tea, if you ask me."

I immediately realized that Ned was a hobbit after my own heart, and offered to give him a hand, an offer that was promptly accepted. I followed him down a short hall while the others settled before a comforting fire in a room which, I noticed with a quick glance as we walked through, was perceptibly higher-roofed than was the norm.

"Not all that uncommon," Ned chuckled, as I mentioned it, as we entered the small tidy kitchen. " 'Tis Bree, after all, and having men as guests ain't all that unusual. Nice to have at least one room that they might find comfortable."

"I suppose you're right," I had to admit, as I helped slice some bread and butter it, as he prepared the tea pot. "So you know the Ranger well?"

"As much as any hobbit, I suppose. Oh, you'll find a few late apples in a bowl on the shelf over there. You wouldn't mind slicing them up for me, then? Oh, yes, the Ranger and I have been acquainted for many a year. We often, as one might say, have the same interests."

I very nearly gouged my finger at that curious statement. "Indeed," I mentioned, with the best attempt at casualness that I could manage. "And how did Bobbin come to stay with you?"

"This is an extremely dangerous business, Master Gamgee. More so than you may realize." He set the tea pot firmly on the table and gave me a level look. "No young hobbit should go about asking the sort of questions as he was asking, without any protection. The fact that he has been seen with the pair o'ye is enough to put him in jeopardy."

And then the serious look was gone as if it had never been. "Must be dull for a lad like that with a pair like you," he laughed. "I've a young relative, just about his age, my second cousin's son, on my mother's side you know, who is just about the same age as young Bobbin. They hit it off that well that Bobbin is staying with him for a bit. But the rest will be famished without second breakfast."

And he bustled back down the hall before I could ask any more questions.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

As I re-entered the front room, at Ned's heels, I found that Baggins and the Ranger had been in close conversation, and Bobbin was curled on a hearth rug at their feet, his face quite serious as he followed their conversation. But Baggins turned to me, as I sat down on the settle beside him, and said, "It seems that there is a certain confederation, in Bree, of forces for, shall we say, peace and harmony among the peoples of Middle Earth. Our good Ranger and Ned, here, are key members. Are there any others in whom we may put our trust?" he looked back over to our host, who was calmly pouring out the tea.

"Well, there are certainly others, but for the moment, it might be best if you stick with just the both of us. Oh, and Nob, of course. He'd be my cousin, you know."

"And Barleycorn?" I couldn't help but ask.

Ned gave a wry smile, as he passed about the plate of bread-and-butter. "Oh, he's generally trustworthy, although a bit too fond of the glint of coin. Still, his heart is in the right place, and there are plenty of folk in Bree of whom that cannot be said."

Baggins leaned back against the settle, his plate, of course, untouched before him, and his fingers steepled before his face. "Very well, then, let us see where matters stand at the moment. I was telling our friends of your visit, yesterday, to the herbist. There is much to be learned from him, I might think, as we discussed this morning." He paused and gave me a polite thanks as I presented him with a steaming mug and a meaningful look, but continued on. "The fact of the matter is that the kingsfoil has been requested in order to destroy it, rather than to put it to any sort of use, which is a curious fact. Even more curious is that apparently no one knows who has been ordering it from the Shire. The supposed purchasers have turned out to be fictitious names and the addresses empty buildings, another sign that the shipment was never meant to reach its destination. However, kingsfoil seems to have been common enough in these parts that the shopkeeper had a drawer once dedicated to it, although he is currently fearful of its mention. I believe, my dear Gamgee, we need to make another visit to this shop. The question still remains, however, as to what makes this herb so dangerous, and to whom. You made some mention the day before, Strider, of certain legends regarding it. Would you mind elaborating on them?"

"Not at all," Strider began, and then paused with an expectant look. "Ah, but there he is," he added, as a sudden knock was heard on the door of the smial. "He can tell you of them much better than I. I give you the leader of our, as you call it, confederation, my good gentlehobbits," he added, as Ned hastened quickly to the door to let the visitor in.

I thought I had become quite inured to the unexpected, in this remarkable affair in which we had become embroiled, but there were still, apparently, more astonishments in store for Baggins and me. Our latest co-conspirator was a being of whom I had only previously heard tales, but there was no doubt in my mind as I rose to my feet in amazement, that the person before me was, unmistakably, a wizard. I even heard Baggins, at my side, give an uncharacteristic gasp of astonishment.

"I give you, my dear hobbits," proclaimed Strider, with a polite bow to the newcomer, and a wicked grin at our reactions, "Radagast the Brown. You might want to put your question, Baggins, to him."


	5. Chapter 5

I never have been able to recall Radagast's exact words, as we sat close to the fire in Ned's humble smial and let our mugs of tea cool forgotten in our hands, but I'll never forget the sound of his voice. It was deep and slightly raspy, as if it had gone unused for quite awhile, and even though he was using common speech, it seemed to me to be the sound of the winds of the north sighing through tall pine, the sound of lonely and desolate lands and places I'd never, or least so I hoped, see. In speaking later to Baggins of it, I found that he had had the impression of legends and old nearly forgotten tales unexpectedly brought to life. But no matter what fanciful notions either of us had, there was no mistaking the import of what he had to tell us.

The Necromancer had apparently been let loose, and although I would not have dreamed of stopping Radagast to ask for details, I had no doubts but this was a matter for great concern. Indeed, Strider's face unmistakably blanched at the news, and even Baggins gave a start. But it all seemed rather far away, and I couldn't quite connect this fact with the events with which we were involved. It wasn't until the old wizard muttered, slightly under his breath, the phrase "black riders", that my blood inexplicably ran suddenly cold.

Strider dropped his pipe unheeded into his lap at these words, and immediately questioned the wizard, the dismay on his face obvious. "The black riders, Radagast? When and where, old friend?"

"This past autumn was when I heard the forests first tell of it," he replied somberly. "Word from the south. And where? The western lands, anywhere west of the Misty Mountains. 'Tis said the Dark Lord seeks something of value, but what is not known. But the black riders go in the direction in which his attention is turned."

Strider stared, sightless and silent, into the fire for what seemed like a very long while to me, but then turned back to Radagast as if there were only the two of them in the room. "Kingsfoil. Tell me, Radagast, are the old legends true?"

The weathered wizard slowly nodded his head. "Altheas," he rumbled the elven word out. "Protection against the black breath, and especially in the hands of the king. They are seeking you out, my friend."

I must admit that none of this was making any sense to me, and I could tell that even Baggins, at my side, was baffled as well, but the man's face suddenly grew very still. "Then I bring danger with me," he replied firmly. "I must not stay."

"I would venture to say," came Baggins' quiet voice, as I turned to him in surprise, "that the danger is already come. There is much here I do not understand, but I do know that whatever evil that has come to Bree will soon make its way to the Shire. I stand ready, as well as does my companion," and here his eyes quickly met mine, and I saw by the warm pride in his expression that he knew he need not ask me, "to extend whatever assistance which is ours to give. How may we help, sire?"

With a start, I realized that in some improbable way, Baggins had grasped that the man before us was indeed the king to whom Radagast had referred. A thousand questions swirled through my head, but now was not the time to ask. Rather, I drew close to Baggins and tried to stifle my growing sense of fear, and appear as stalwart as did he.

The man bent his head and appeared to consider the matter for a moment. Then he looked up, directly at Baggins and myself, his grey eyes seeming to pierce right through to our hearts. "Your assistance is most gratefully accepted, good hobbits," he said slowly, as Bobbin and Ned immediately added their pledges as well. "But it will not come without cost. The time may have come in truth for men, hobbits, and indeed all free folk, to band against this dark threat. Very well. There is a commodity here which apparently they fear. Let us begin with that." Then, with a wry smile, he added, "And I prefer Strider, my friends."

The morning wore on, and the flames had nearly died out, forgotten, as we sat in that humble smial, and began to draw up our plans.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Baggins and myself had been assigned a return visit to the herbalist, while Bobbin, clearly beginning to feel anxious regarding Reedborn's absence, had returned to the Prancing Pony in Ned's company, to see what he could find out in that regard. Strider, and king though he might be, I still knew of no other name for him, and the wizard had vanished on their own unspecified errands. It had been agreed, however, that the company should meet this evening, before dinner, in Baggins' and my room. I was ready to embark on any task that might be required of me, but held firm to my own private resolve that I should not be separated from Baggins again, no matter what the circumstances. I had had quite enough of apprehension and fear the night before, on that account, and had no appetite to repeat those bleak hours. But somehow I sensed that Baggins understood, for as we left the smial and found our way back into Bree proper once again, he remained close at my side, and found reason to brush against me frequently, an unexpected attention for which I was more than appreciative.

The snow had continued without abatement, during the morning we had spent in Ned's cozy smial, and the fresh drifts were becoming quite difficult to stamp our way through. Noon had somehow passed, and the grey skies were beginning to lose what little light they had held by the time we found the small shop tucked away on one of the less-traveled side streets of Bree. I might have thought the establishment was not open for business except for a dim light shining from the interior. The few passers-by made their way down the lane, strewn with dirty and trampled snow, without a second look at us and the horse-drawn carts, generally driven by men bundled in heavy coats and woolen caps, rumbled by us with complete indifference as well.

I indicated the shop to Baggins, but instead of entering immediately, he paused, and scrutinized it from the street. "Obviously a very old establishment," he murmured, scanning the grimy sign swinging above the street with the traditional depiction of a mortar and pestle. "Business was once rather brisk – note how worn the steps of the entrance are, Gamgee – but not nearly as much as of late. Notice the undisturbed snow on the door handle. No doubt we are the first to enter today. Very well, then, Gamgee, remember our roles. He may not remember you from the previous visit, but we cannot take that chance."

A feeble bell tinkled somewhere in the distance as we entered, and it seemed like a very long while before the shuffling footsteps of the proprietor were heard to approach us. However, Baggins had not merely waited his arrival, but rather had gone to inspect the drawer which I indicated.

"Ah. It is you," the wizened hobbit announced with distaste as he saw me. Clearly, I had been memorable.

But Baggins was prepared. "This must be the very illustrious hobbit of which you told me, Gamgee," he announced with a deep bow to the proprietor, surreptitiously stuffing the handkerchief, with which he had secreted some of the residue still remaining in the drawer, into his pocket.

"And what was it that he told you?" the shop owner responded with a sniff, not appearing to be prepared to be mollified in the least.

"Only that he had never seen such an extensive and comprehensive selection of the finest herbs and potions in all his experience," Baggins replied smoothly, with ingratiating charm. "We are but humble healers and travelers from afar, and it seems as if rumours of your extensive stock were not exaggerated in the least."

"In these sorry days, 'tis not what it was, but I daresay there are still few inventories in Bree to match." I discreetly watched, with more than a little amazement, not to mention amusement, as the shopkeeper took immediately to Baggins and might even have been said to preen slightly.

"I certainly could not possibly imagine any more extensive," Baggins murmured, with transparent honesty. "But if I might just ask you on a point regarding which my friend mentioned the other day, I see no kingsfoil in your stock. I must admit, we have been searching for it for the last few months in vain, for isn't it the recommended herb of choice for, what was that type of fever again, Gamgee?"

"Stoor fever," I added promptly, making up the ailment out of whole cloth. "And a treacherous one it is, too."

"Stoor fever?" queried the elderly hobbit, caught at the point of denial and giving both of us a puzzled look. "Can't say as I've heard. . ."

"Oh, no doubt, no doubt," Baggins smoothly interposed, with a soothing smile. "West Farthing, you know. No reason you should have heard of it. But it is a rather nasty customer, is it not, Gamgee?"

"Deep wracking coughs and painful boils," I chimed in immediately, as Baggins solemnly nodded in agreement. "Uncontrollable violent retching. Loss of toe hair," I added, with relish.

"Dear me," the proprietor appeared taken aback. "I don't believe I've ever. . ."

"Of course, I am a mere novice in this field," Baggins hastily interposed. "Gamgee here, he's the expert on this matter, and I am but a humble acolyte. But I put it to you. . ." and here he paused with an expectant look.

"Greyleaf," the hobbit helplessly offered.

"Master Greyleaf, of course, of course, I am positive I have heard your name before. As I was saying, would you not be searching to the ends of Middle Earth for the cure for such a dire disease? We had heard there was kingsfoil to be found in Bree, but now that we are here, it is not to be found, for surely if you do not have it, no one will."

"Well now, that ain't to say as I've never had it," Greyleaf muttered, and then gave a quick look about. "Won't you be having some tea, gentlehobbits? I believe it is just about that time," he gave a slight nod of his head to the door at the back of the shop from which he had originally entered.

"You are much too kind," Baggins murmured with a warm smile. "A hot pot of tea sounds like just the thing on a frosty day such as this one has turned out to be. Would you not agree, Gamgee?"

"Hot tea would be heaven itself," I agreed, with the utmost sincerity.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

We followed Greyleaf back into a perfect warren of dim halls and tiny rooms that lay at the back of the shop. "Not a proper smial," he muttered, as he led us on, "but I suppose I've gotten used to it over the years. Here you are, my dear sirs, just find yourselves a seat in here - ah, let me rouse up the fire a bit, there we are – and I'll be back in no time." With a last poke at the feeble fire in the small sitting room, he vanished and Baggins and I exchanged glances of bemusement.

"Boils, retching, and loss of foot hair, Gamgee?" he murmured as we looked about to find a likely perch. "I was afraid you were laying it on fairly thick there, but apparently it was believable enough."

"It's all in the delivery, my dear Baggins," I couldn't help but grin. "No one ever doubts a self-confident healer. A trick of the trade, I should say." But there was no time to say more as our host bustled down the hallway, steaming pot in one hand and a small tray loaded with cups and an obviously sticky honey pot in the other, just as I managed to perch myself on a rather rickety chair propped up by a dusty stack of books.

"Dear me, dear me, I'm afraid I have so few visitors," he muttered, placing the pot down on a tiny end table, and sweeping off a stack of begrimed crates to allow Baggins a seat on the modest bench across from what clearly was his own chair.

"Kingsfoil, ah, that's the nub of it all, isn't it, gentlehobbits?" he queried us as he poured out the tea. "Oh, that cup might be a mite dusty," he added, as I gave mine a dubious glance. "Just swipe it out with your sleeve, there you go. Right as rain. Well, I used to have plenty of it, up to about a year ago. Then I started having visitors, and an odd lot they were, too."

"Odd, you say?" Baggins prompted, nonchalantly sipping his tea from a noticeable grimy cup. "In what way?"

"Well, first of all, they weren't hobbits," Greyleaf leaned forward, warming to his narrative. "Not to say as I didn't have an occasional man popping in from time to time for the odd herb or two, but these were all men, you see, and all asking for the same thing. Kingsfoil. Never said why, neither. Most customers, they want to chat me up a bit," and here he nodded with obvious pride. "I've been dealing in herbs quite awhile, you know, and there isn't much I've forgotten, if I do say so. But no, this lot wanted all the kingsfoil I had, and not a word about what they wanted to do with it."

"And another thing," he added, lowering his voice and gazing about surreptitiously, as if anyone might be lurking behind the door. "If these ruffians were healers, well then, I'll call myself an elf and go live in a tree. One of them I recognized, though he don't know me. Ferny, his name is, and he lives on a mean farm near the edge of Bree, out in the woods. Now after awhile, they stopped coming, but I couldn't get kingsfoil no more, neither. Heard tell of a couple of shipments from the Shire, but that was a grim business, and I don't wish to know no more about that. Seemingly, I'm out of the kingsfoil business, and I suppose it's just as well. I hate to disappoint you two fine gentlehobbits, but it's just as well you know which way the wind blows hereabouts. I'd suggest that the Shire'd be a better place to be finding such a thing."

With a barely disguised gleam in his eye, Baggins nodded, and turned the conversation to commonplaces. We were back out on the street again no more than fifteen minutes later, with a standing invitation to visit Greyleaf again, whether on matters of business or not.

"Ferny. Not entirely surprising, wouldn't you agree, Gamgee?" Baggins glanced up at the darkening sky with speculation. "Do you suppose your pony would care for a bit of exercise?"

 

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Bill raised up his head and nickered at us as we approached his stall a short while later. His anticipation was not in vain, as I offered up a fragrant apple, a gift that was happily accepted. It was truly amazing the change only a day had made in the animal. He was already perceptibly less thin, his eyes were bright, and he stamped his feet as though impatient for some fresh air.

"Very well, Bill, my boy," I murmured, stroking his neck with affection. "Let us take a short trip before night falls. But you'll be back here by tonight, I promise you."

I glanced around to find Baggins watching us silently, and I sensed that it was more me than the pony he saw. Slightly embarrassed, I tied up the lead rope to Bill's bridle, for I had no other gear for him as of yet, and led him from the barn.

We walked quickly, trying to find our way back in the ever-increasing snow to that lane of ill-kept farms on the outskirts of Bree. Bill walked beside us with no hesitation, and I wondered briefly how much of his recent past that he remembered. A good deal, I soon found out.

Ferny was leaning against his fence post very nearly in the same attitude in which we had originally found him. "Looking for more sorry nags, are ye?" he jeered as he recognized us. Then, catching sight of Bill behind us, he stood up a little straighter. "Looks as though I need to be charging you full price next time. Seemingly I let that one go for cheap. Mayhap you owe me." He straightened up menacingly, his tall form silhouetted darkly against the last ruddy rays of the setting sun that pierced the cold grey sky.

"We have not come to rescue any more of your poor beasts, although there are worst ways for us to spend our coin," Baggins stood resolutely before him. "Instead we have come to ask you where we might obtain some kingsfoil. I rather think you might know."

Ferny stood silent for a moment, and even in the growing dark, I could see the expression on his face change. "You have suddenly become, little man," he bit out the words with icy precision, "something more than merely an annoyance. Fortunately, you are both strangers in our fair town, and will not be missed for long." And with lightning speed, he seized up his ax, which I had not noticed stuck in a nearby stump, and ran at us with it in his raised hand.

I bolted in terror, Baggins close at my heels, but the man's strides were far longer than ours, and it was just a matter of time. I was desperately peering in the gloom about me for something to climb, or hide behind, when one of my feet skidded on an icy patch and I found myself tumbling to the ground. I looked up to see Baggins staring at me in horror, too far away to reach me before Ferny did, when a sudden howling shriek pierced the air and a great body rushed past me.

It was Bill, whom I had entirely forgotten in the last few minutes, and he charged towards the man like a creature possessed. Ferny, clearly astonished, still had the presence of mind to lift up his ax with every intention of doing the animal harm. Bill never gave him that chance. Rearing up on his hind legs with another unearthly cry, he hit Ferny square on the forehead with his front hoof, and the man dropped to the ground, face forward, and the ax dropped forgotten at his side.

Baggins had by now, obviously shaken, reached my side and helped me to my feet. "Ferny?" I whispered, staring at the still body with fear still coursing through my veins.

But Baggins just shook his head, and pointed to the dark stain spreading through the snow under his form. "We'd best get back to the inn with all haste, Sam," he muttered, clutching my arm tightly.

Bill, who had been pawing the ground nearby and still huffing heavily, turned to me as I softly called his name, and came up to me with a gentle push of his nose. I gave him a fierce hug, and knew my impulsive decision of the day before had already been repaid a hundredfold. He was still trembling, either with excitement or cold, I could not tell, but I threw my cloak over his back and Baggins did likewise. We returned in the dark snowy night to the warm barn and the comparative safety of the Prancing Pony.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

We were both silent as we reached our room, after seeing to Bill, and there was no question but that a fire was necessary, as both of us had been soaked clear through to our skin on our trip back to the inn without our cloaks, but as soon as that chore was seen to, we hastily stripped, and found ourselves in bed in a tight embrace.

"Sam, my dearest Sam, I don't mind admitting that I was terrified for a moment," Frodo murmured as soon as our hungry mouths parted for a breath. His hand reached up and caressed the side of my face. "If it hadn't had been for Bill. . . It doesn't bear thinking, my love. But it could have been. I have no business bringing you into such danger."

"Enough of that nonsense, Frodo," I interrupted him roughly, rolling him under me, and raising myself up on my elbows, I stared down at his face, gleaming in the flicking light of the fire. "It is not your choice, as I have told you before. It is mine, it has ever been mine, and it will always be so. I am at your side until my dying breath, and there is nothing in all this world that could ever make me happier than that. If you are in danger, why, then I am too, and that's all there is to it. If you ever take up bee-keeping, then I suppose we'll both be safe as smials, but I hope that is a good many years off."

He gave me a crooked smile then, but his hand still was gentle on my face and his eyes were very dark in the uncertain light. "I love you so, Samwise. You don't know how much you've changed me."

"As much as you've changed me, I suppose," I replied, and then found his mouth again. I felt his other hand run up my side as we twined our legs together and knew that the time we had was far too short to give each other all we meant to give.

The fire had nearly died out, though, and we were both drowsing off when there was a firm knock on the door. With a muttered curse, I wrapped a blanket about myself and made my way to the door, jerking it ungraciously open.

But instead of the serving hobbit I was expecting, it was Strider who stood in the doorway. "The others will be making their way to your room shortly, as was our agreement. I suspected that you'd both like a bit of warning first. Bobbin isn't prone to knocking first, I'm afraid." He gave an amused chuckle at my expression, and quietly closed the door in my face.

"How does he know these things?" I muttered, as I searched for my rumpled clothing on the floor.

Frodo's laugh made me look up with a smile. "He's a king, you know, Sam, or so I hear. I would imagine that being fairly perceptive comes with that. Not to worry, my dear. As long as it doesn't bother you what he guesses, it certainly doesn't me. And I haven't forgotten your threat, my dear."

"Neither have I." I gave him a hearty kiss as he got up from bed. "And I mean to make good on it, you'll see."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was well we had warning, for it was no less than ten minutes later that, true to Strider's prediction, Bobbin burst through our door with no further preamble. He was excited and with cause, for at his heels was the missing Reedborn. "Well, we are all back together again," he chirped happily, as Baggins quickly tossed our drying cloaks over the still somewhat untidy bed. Strider followed behind the pair of them, noticeably more sedately, and Ned was with him.

"The common room is not safe for you, I'm afraid," Ned gave us an apologetic shrug. "I will have some of my most trusted hobbits bring us dinner here, if you gentlehobbits, and of course, you as well, sire," and he gave Strider a little bow, "wouldn't mind."

Of course, we all immediately assented, and he quickly made his way back down the hallway.

"What news, Reedborn?" asked Baggins eagerly, as I pulled up what chairs there were before the fire for us. Bobbin had made himself comfortable on the hearth rug, as was his habit, and Strider stretched out at one side of the room, as the chairs were a bit tight for his liking, so there were enough to go around, and one more for Ned when he returned.

"News enough," the river hobbit responded with a grim expression, as he stretched his legs wearily out before him to the fire. "The drovers were a chatty lot, as I had suspected they would be, to one of their own. Not that much difference between hauling freight on a river and on a road. They didn't have much to say about any shipments this past year between Bree and the Shire other than it was a bad business, a very bad business indeed. But there was a good deal of muttering about what was to come."

"Seemingly, there are a group of men in this town, unsavory sorts to say the least, and not a few hobbits as well, that have been mixed up in all of this," he leaned forward, his eyes on the fire. "I caught the name of their leader, a certain Ferny, but I suspect he is just the local chief. There seems to be a power that directs them from afar, and that leader is the one for whom they are now waiting. They seem to be right nervous about him, too. The drovers have a feeling that all has not gone according to this leader's wishes, and they are holding themselves well away from the pack of men. Business has been quite scarce, this past year, and they are heartily sick of the interference Ferny's lot has over Bree and its doings."

"Do you suppose we could get anything out of Ferny?" Bobbin, who had been following Reedborn's narrative intently, queried, giving Strider an expectant look.

"That might be a bit difficult," Baggins interposed dryly. And briefly he told the others of our encounter just a few hours ago.

"Well, that's bound to stir the hornets' nest for sure," Reedborn responded with a low whistle. "Whoever's on their way ain't going to be happy with that news, and no mistake."

"And who that someone might be is the question then, is it not, my friends?" came the quiet voice from the side of the room where Strider was sitting slowly up. "That is a matter regarding which I hope to have an answer by morning, not to mention reinforcements. If those who ride to us are who, or should I say, what I think they are, we will certainly need them."

But there was no time to ask him more, for Ned suddenly burst into the room, fear obvious on his face. "The men, they've come for you, Mr. Baggins and Mr. Gamgee! The word is out on what happened to Ferny, although good riddance to rubbish is what I say. Barleycorn is trying to stall them, but he won't be able to manage that for very long. You must be off, but where I cannot say. They will surely look to my smial as well."

"I can rejoin my drover comrades, and take Bobbin as well," Reedborn declared, springing to his feet. "Will both of you join us?"

"No, that would bring danger to them," Baggins responded tightly, snatching up our cloaks and tossing mine to me. "There is somewhere else, however, where we may possibly find refuge that they would never suspect."

"Very well, then. Strider nodded as he quickly doused the flames. "We shall all meet at the barn tomorrow morning, an hour past dawn. I shall have news by then for us all. Stay safe this night, and get as much rest as possible. You will all need your strength on the morrow."

But I had no time to consider the implication behind his words, as Ned quickly led us down a back passageway into the cold night.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was much later that night, when we at last tucked ourselves under numerous well-patched coverlets and slightly moth-eaten blankets on the floor of one of Greyleaf's mustier storerooms. Baggins had insisted on revealing our true identities and purpose in coming to Bree, as well as the more current events, after Greyleaf had given us shelter that frosty night. It was not right, he was adamant when I murmured my misgivings as we huddled in the snowdrift on the doorstep, awaiting the proprietor's response to our discreet but prolonged knocking, that a hobbit should place his life in peril under false circumstances, and of course, he was entirely right. Not only that, I saw immediately that he had judged our host properly, for his initial bewilderment at our tale quickly vanished, and it was soon apparent that he was made of sterner stuff than I had initially supposed. There was no question but that he would provide us shelter for the night, and he insisted that we consider him entirely at our disposal on the next day as well, for whatever engagement that might occur. "Good to know at least one of you is a proper healer after all," he gave a gruff bark of a laugh, "and will at least be able to put my wares to good use."

But there was enough said for the night, and he led us back to the room with apologies for its chill and untidy state, neither of which bothered us in the least, as we emphatically informed him. Its chief attraction, it might be mentioned, was a small, thoroughly begrimed window from which we could make a hasty exit, should that be necessary.

So it was by the light of an icy moon, uncovered by clouds for the moment, that I lay in Baggins' warm embrace, and counted myself privileged indeed. We were, needless to mention, fully clothed, but my position was sweetly familiar and comforting. I felt his drowsy nuzzle against the back of my neck, and snuggled my own back against his chest a bit closer. The morning would come soon enough, but for this night, at least, I knew myself to be loved and secure and fortunate above all other hobbits, no matter their feather beds and snug smials.


	6. Chapter 6

The pale moon was still a sliver in the sky when we left Greyleaf's shop, prudently through the storeroom window, at chill dawn the next morning. We found both Ned and Nob, as well as Reedborn and Bobbin, all gathered together at the back of the barn, sharing an early first breakfast. "There'll be others joining us, but seeing as they ain't hobbits, they thought 'twas too early for eating," Reedborn nodded to us, and handed each of us a mug. Whatever might be on its way, there really seemed no point in meeting it with an empty stomach, so Baggins and I joined in, making quick work of a sturdy meal of brown bread and butter, toasted cheese, apples, fried sausages, and of course, scalding tea. I pocketed a few apples and went off to check on Bill, who seemed to have recovered quite nicely from our scare of the day before.

"I'd take you with us, indeed, I would," I murmured, as he tried to follow me out of the stall, "except I have no idea where we are going. Or what we'll be doing there, to be quite honest, my lad. No, you're best off here for the moment." I swear he looked crestfallen, if a pony can be said to have such an expression, and gave a hearty snort as I left him.

There was no question regarding from whom we awaited word. The only participant from our hastily adjourned meeting of the night before who was still missing was Strider, and what he knew held the key as to what was about to occur on this bitter morning. Ned kept his counsel for the moment, only telling us that the men who terrorized Barleycorn the night before had disappeared as suddenly as they had arrived, but he thought there was fear as well as anger on their faces when it was learned that we were not to be found. It was well that we not show our faces about the inn, he instructed us carefully, but the barn was safe for the time being.

"But there are men here as well," I could not help but mention with some trepidation, giving a quick glance about me.

Nob gave me a wry smile. "Master Gamgee, in Bree, we know there's certain men, and there's the other sort likewise. Those as work here can be trusted with your life, as indeed is mayhap the case this very moment. No, these lads are a good lot, and there ain't a one as won't do what they can, if needs be. But tell us, Master Reedborn, what say the drovers?"

"They stand with us, likewise, both hobbit and man," Reedborn gave a short nod. "They are awaiting word from us even now."

But even as he spoke, a young hobbit quickly made his way to us through the stalls, clearly bursting with great news. "They're here! They're here!" he squeaked, and Bobbin leapt to his feet in eager anticipation.

"Where, Freddy? Where are they?" he asked, touching his arm and as the young hobbit turned to Ned, I caught the resemblance and realized that this was the young cousin of whom Ned had earlier spoken.

"The cave near the big rock, Uncle Ned. The one by the road from the north. 'Tis a wonder to behold!" his words spilling out in his excitement. "Dunedin, I don't know how many of them! And on splendid big horses, likewise!"

"And Strider?" Ned prompted him quickly.

"At the head of them all," Freddy confirmed, grinning broadly. "Just like an old tale come true!"

"Old tales can be dangerous ones," Ned said slowly, giving the young hobbit a look of warning. "You've a task to do, first, my dear cousin. You, and Bobbin likewise," he added, placing his hands on both of their shoulders, "must be our eyes and ears. But you must not be seen! No-one gives a young lad another look; the both of you can come and go without notice if you do not call attention to yourselves, and that is exactly what we must rely on, my lads. To the east and the south, that is where you must look for what comes. No need to worry about the north and west; if the Rangers are here, those ways are safe enough and no mistake. So station yourselves on the walls and use those sharp young eyes of yours."

"And then what?" breathed Bobbin, clearly delighted by the importance of his role.

"Whatever you see, you came back to old Nob, here, and let him know as quick as may be. He'll decide what is to be done then," he added, giving the older hobbit a nod. "But mind! No one is to notice the pair o'you."

Freddy gave a gay excited laugh, and tapped the side on his nose in response, with a conspiratorial wink at Bobbin. "As sly as the summer breeze, uncle," he promised eagerly, and the two young hobbits were gone.

"Now then," Ned turned next to Reedborn. "The next matter at hand is to let the drovers know the time has come to join us. Who leads them, Reedborn?"

"Cartman," Reedborn answered without hesitation.

"Ah, that is good fortune indeed. You must give him word that the Rangers have come. They must make their way to the cave as soon as may be to meet up with Longshanks. Cartman and I have spoken on the matter already, and he will be expecting this news." Ned stoked his chin in approval, unexpectedly the very picture of a master tactician. "I shall be sending most of the lads here, man and hobbit alike, along soon enough, but the drovers know that cave likewise, and Cartman can lead you there as well as I."

All this while, Baggins had been standing quietly at my side, watching the proceedings carefully. "And where," he politely cleared his throat, as Jem quickly saddled Barrel up, and prepared to depart into the snowy early morning, "might Gamgee and myself do the most good?"

"Ah, no, Master Baggins," Ned spun around with some surprise, "Did Strider not tell you? The pair o'you ain't going nowhere yet. You're the bait, the both of you are, and there ain't no sense in setting the trap until the game is in sight. You'll be biding here with me until we hear word from Ranger or wizard. May as well be making yourselves comfortable, my good hobbits, for this day will be long indeed, and I have no doubt but you'll be needin' all your strength and courage by the end o'it."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Before long, most of the hobbits who normally worked about the great stables were gone, and not a few of the men, as well. Not a sound came from the outside but sounded faint and far away, for the snow was falling steadily once more, and all was muffled and hushed in the dim light of the morning. It was warm and comfortable inside the vast wooden structure, however, and the soft snuffling and quiet munching of the beasts about us was undeniably comforting.

"There is a connection with those whom you expect and the athelas, is there not, Ned?" Baggins' voice quietly cut through the silence as he stood leaning against the wall of a stall, and gazing out of the open door at the occasional snow flurry that sailed past.

"Indeed. Do you not know the old tales, Master Baggins?" Ned asked softly as he took his pipe from his pocket. "'Tis called kingsfoil, is it not?"

"And the king?" I asked, pulling my pipe out likewise and making a seat for myself in a mound of clean hay near where Baggins was standing. If Ned felt there was enough time for a smoke, I was nothing loathe to join him, for in truth, my nerves could use a bit of settling.

"Well, that would be the Ranger, now, would it not?" Ned gave me a surprised glance, sidewise, and then shook his head with a wry smile as I tried to keep from feeling foolish at my question. "Ah, sure as they say, the Shire has forgotten much. 'Tis not your fault, good sirs," he added hastily as Baggins gave me an amused but kindly glance. "'Tis an easy life for Shire folk, no mistake, but they've forgotten what keeps it that way. Those of us as live in less safe lands have not forgotten, no, not at all."

"The Rangers, well, they'd be rightly called Dunedin, Men of Westernesse. It was them as brought the hobbits out from the East and gave us the Shire in which to live. It is them as makes sure that the Shire stays safe from the Enemy, still to this day. For make no mistake, gentlehobbits," he spoke sharply, giving each of us a piercing look. "The Enemy is no tale to be scaring fauntlings with. The Enemy is not only real, but has been growing, and the Shire is in peril, w'out a doubt."

"And you believe Strider to be the King who is mentioned in tales of old?" Baggins turned from his study of the open door, giving Ned his full attention. "And thus he and the athelas are connected?"

I wasn't sure if I was entirely following this but took another draw on my pipe, and began to realize that my prior concept of the world outside the Shire had been decidedly sketchy.

Ned nodded. "I've always felt it was him. For one thing, my old dad knew him too, and said as his dad before him did likewise. But you'd never know it to look at him, now, would you? 'Tis said there's elf-blood in his veins, and I'd not say no. But it's more than just that, for all Rangers are long-lived, for men, leastways. There's just something about him, though, as gives it away, and there ain't no place I wouldn't follow him to, if he gave the word."

Baggins nodded slowly. "I have felt that too, and Gamgee and I have only been briefly acquainted with him. And the athelas?"

"Generally, the Enemy relies on the Black Breath. It can freeze your heart and kill a body purely from fear, w'out a hand ever being laid on you. But their weapons, well, 'tis said they are knives of Morgul. And what they can do to a body doesn't bear thinking. But athelas, in the hand of the King, may be remedy against it, if given soon enough. At least that's what the tales tell, although no mortal hobbit, nor man for that matter, has had occasion to test that, at least in living memory. Now what if the Enemy was plannin' to attack, and they was knowin' as there's a king nearby? Wouldn't it make good sense to get rid of any athelas as might be laying about first? And wouldn't it also make sense to call for more, and get rid of that likewise, so there'd be nowhere folk could turn, when they'd really be needin' it?"

"And so the shipments from East Farthing," Baggins nodded. "And the sense of fear involved in the fate of those shipments, so there would likely be no more who would venture to send it, even if asked."

Ned looked grim at that analysis. "Truly spoken, Master Baggins. And I lost some dear friends that way. I can't imagine being frightened to death, but it happened to them, sure enough. Us folk of Bree have lived under this shadow these last long years now, and I mean to do all I can to help the Dunedin banish it for good from these parts."

There was silence in the barn, as Ned puffed rather furiously at his pipe, and I began to sort the pieces together. But there was one piece that just didn't seem to fit yet, and I couldn't help but bring it up, as much as I sensed I shouldn't like the answer at all. "You said before that Baggins and I are bait," I drew the pipe from my mouth and studied it carefully. "Would you mind explaining that bit to me? Seeing as how we are strangers in these parts, I'm not quite sure how we have attained that unenviable position."

"Because, my dearest Gamgee," Baggins unexpectedly answered, settling himself down next to me on the straw, "we have been quite cleverly and specifically maneuvered out of the Shire and to Bree, is that not right, Ned?"

"Indeed." Ned gave us a steady look. "You are not here by chance, I may assure you of that, good sirs."

"I suspected as much," Baggins nodded at the older hobbit's confirmation. "I have been inconvenienced by this lot more than once, as of late, and I must say it appeared to me that there was more than one reason that Gamgee and I were asked to lend assistance upon this matter."

"Surely you don't suspect Reedborn of complicity, Baggins?" I glanced over at him in dismay.

"No, not in the least, but I do think it was a remarkable chain of events that led us here. If you remember that affair which involved our initial acquaintance with Reedborn, and Bobbin too for that matter, the power behind those against whom we were pitted was never entirely disclosed. Without his knowledge, it would appear that Reedborn has been maneuvered into a position where he would seek assistance, and in which he would naturally turn to us. And, of course, we would offer him that assistance and follow him to this far more isolated place. Without a doubt, they have ransacked Bag End once again in our absence, and I don't mind admitting that I am somewhat concerned on behalf of the Widow. Indeed, I am most annoyed with myself that I did not see the larger picture until now."

"And would you have chosen to act differently, Master Baggins?" Ned asked softly, giving him a piercing look as he did so.

"Most likely not," Baggins gave a wry smile. "But I might have been rather more observant about certain matters. Well, there's naught to be gained with regrets. The question is now how to use that information in the situation in which we are placed. And I must add that being bait is not an attractive position at all. There must be some sort of more useful function that Gamgee and I could be serving."

But what that might have been was not to be a matter of debate, for at that moment, Bobbin rushed in through the open barn door, covered with a dusting of snow, and his eyes alight with a mixture of exhilaration and terror. "We seen 'em," he exclaimed. "No more than twenty miles off. Black Riders!"

Ned wasted no time upon hearing that news. Leaving only a few of the larger men with the rest of the horses and ponies (and it was a surprise to me, I must admit, how there was no question but that he was the unquestioned leader of this band of hobbits and men), he and the rest of those present quickly saddled up, with himself on a large black pony, while Nob and another hobbit quickly prepared Bottle and Bill for myself and Baggins.

"Being on ponyback may or may not be of use," Ned hurriedly explained, amid the general flurry of the snorts of the excited animals, the rough shouts of men and hobbits alike, and the sound of stamping hoofs, as he expertly threw himself atop the beast and hauled a wide-eyed Bobbin up behind him. "But it don't pay to be underfoot at times like this, and there's less of a chance o'that when you are on a pony's back."

With that brief illumination, Baggins and I clambered onto our ponies in a far less experienced manner, and we were out the wide door and into the dim snowy morning.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The pack of us turned, a block from the barn, in a direction toward which we had previously not traveled, through the streets of closed and tightly shuttered shops. It was not long at all before we had left town, and were making our way through the snow-drifted narrow roads past fewer and more humble buildings, more snowy fields and trees, and soon to hills with the thin wisps of smoke rising from the chimneys of well-buried smials. But it was hard to determine these details with the gusts of snow that nipped our noses and eartips, and blew into our faces. I was grateful to no end for the warm presence of Bill under me, and sensed rather than saw Baggins riding next to me. Clutching the pony tightly, I buried my nose in his mane, and tried not to think of what might await us.

And then I felt Bill slow under me, and I looked up to find that we were out of the town altogether, in a snowy woods, and the rest of the ponies and horses ahead of us were slowing as well. Quickly, I looked about for Baggins, and found him close behind me, as he rode up and placed a fleeting warm hand on my leg as he passed me by, giving me a brief comforting smile as he continued to ride on ahead of me. The day's outcome might be unknown, and could hold untold danger for either of us, but there was nothing to stop my heart from feeling a instantaneous thrill of joy at that sight. There never was anything under the sun that I would not have given for the sake of that momentary private smile, and I knew he saw my heart as I returned it. Black Riders might threaten us and the very Shire itself, but I was most thoroughly loved indeed, and in the end, nothing ever mattered as much as that to either of us. Unsure as how to guide Bill, I let him do what he would, but fortunately for me, that was to apparently follow in Bottle's hooveprints. Thus I soon found myself at the mouth of the deep cave, carved into the high sheer ledge of rock where the hills behind Bree began, and in the presence, once again, of Aragorn the Ranger.

Mounted on a fine majestic black horse, he looked every inch the king, and yet at the same time the quiet Ranger, both one and the same. Around him were other mounted men, with the same appearance of competence mixed with forgotten majesty, and I realized that I was in the presence of the fabled Dunedin. There was also a sizable contingent of what I assumed to be the local men and hobbits, and I caught a glimpse, near the outskirts of the crowd, of Reedborn, mounted on the sturdy Barrel.

I noticed Aragorn's glance rest coolly upon me, and then warm as he noticed Baggins ahead of me. Certainly that was understandable, and I couldn't help a bit of quiet pride in the realization that Baggins was so honored. But there was no time to dwell on that, for Aragorn raised a hand, and the crowd hushed immediately. "My friends," he began softly, "my very dearest friends. The Enemy is close at hand, and the day we have known was coming has at last arrived. Let us unite, man, hobbit and dwarf together." With a start, I realized that there were indeed a few dwarves mixed in the crowd, their beard-covered faces solemn and just as somber as the rest of the audience.

"The Enemy is powerful indeed, but we are more so, for there is loyalty, trust and our love for our comrades, and those who depend on us, to be found on our side. The weapons of the Enemy are mighty, but our hearts are mightier still. Let not one of us regret that on this day, a day of which our children and grandchildren will speak for many years hence, that we did not give everything we had for the sake of those who look to us, and for those yet to come as well. Hate and fear have but momentary power, if we let them, but if we are strong, if we are resolute, if we look to each other for courage and sustenance, then the final victory must be ours. Let us drive them forth back to whence they came, my dearest comrades, let us banish them forever from our lands! Forth, free peoples of Middle Earth! Tomorrow shall be ours, if we but trust in ourselves!"

A mighty roar burst forth at the Ranger's words, and I felt my heart swell with an uncharacteristic thrill of pride and exhilaration. With a shiver of excitement, I looked over at Baggins, on Bottle next to me, and saw that his eyes were aglow and his mobile features vibrant. In the midst of the heedless crowd, he rode closer to me, and stretched his hand out to mine. "Samwise, my dearest Sam," he murmured, grasping and holding my hand tightly. "Whatever may come, my beloved, this is what must be done. What must come, will come. But I need to tell you, once more, that I love you with all my heart."

"Forever yours, my own Frodo," I breathed, fixing those beloved features faithfully in my memories, and hardly able to speak with the intensity of my emotions as I held his hand tightly and brought it to my breast. "Always and forever yours, come what may."

But the time for words had passed and the horses and ponies, and men and hobbits and dwarves, surged forward. The Battle of Bree had begun.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was the men we saw first, the very same men who had been the neighbors and allies of the ill-fated Bill Ferny. As we rode through the sparse pines, on the snow covered rough paths, they silently rode out from their neighboring farm, hard-faced and sneering, with axes and rough swords in hand. "Aye, ride on, ye maggots," a tall man harshly cried, and I recognized, with dread, the man whom had stood with Ferny the day I acquired Bill. "There's hardly enough o'ye to matter, and we'll see how you like the helpings you'll be gettin' when our masters are come." With foreboding, I realized that they were not by any means attacking or harassing us, but rather, one might almost say, herding us forward. But Aragon was in the lead, and Baggins was directly in front of me, and I concentrated solely on that.

Their expressions changed, however, when they caught sight of the Dunedin following at the rear of our forces. With a low inadvertent whistle, I saw one of the farmers turn to one of his mates, and mutter, with not a little fear in his voice, "They'd not be tellin' us the Rangers are come."

With a growl, his comrade quickly disguised his own momentary fear, and hissed angrily at him, "What of it, ye fool? Have we not taken care of one of them already? 'Tis but a man, when all is said and done."

"'Twas at least a dozen of us an' only one of him, an' we still barely managed it," his friend mumbled stubbornly, but I heard no more as we left the pair, glowering fiercely at all of us, at the side of the road.

The road seemed endless, and I had no idea where we were or where we were bound but there seemed to be more and more men grimly staring at us, and surly hobbits as well, the longer we rode, and I suddenly realized that their forces were much greater in number than ours. I glanced up into the grey cold sky, the sun now a dull red glow behind the clouds, and was unexpectedly stuck by the notion that this must be the most improbable place in all of Middle Earth for the son of Hamfast Gamgee to meet his end, lost in a hopeless skirmish in an impossible war in a far away land. The sheer ridiculousness of this notion was too much for my nerves, I suppose, and I couldn't help suddenly laughing out loud.

Baggins turned Bottle around at that sound and rode to my side, his eyebrow raised inquiringly, but with a smile on his lips.

"I'm sorry, Baggins," I tried to explain, shaking my head. "This just seemed so very unlikely, all of a sudden. But aren't we really just a pair of simple hobbits from the Shire? However did we end up in this tale?"

Baggins' smile deepened then, and he brought Bottle up next to Bill. "Samwise the Brave," he murmured. "I don't think that sounds very unlikely at all."

"Only as long as he's accompanying Frodo the Fair," I retorted, and Baggins threw his head back and laughed as well.

"Then, my dearest Sam, we must manage to get through this," he eyes sparkled with an improbable merriment. "Such wondrous titles should never go to waste. We must make sure to get back to the Shire and subtly let the story get around."

One of the men walking near us shook his head as he listened to our exchange, an irrepressible smile on his lips as well. "Hobbits," he muttered with amusement.

"'Tis but our way, good sir," I bowed as best I could atop Bill.

"An' 'tis a fine way indeed, to my manner of thinking," he chuckled as he returned the bow. "May we all live to enjoy each other's company for many years to come."

But there was no more time for conversation, since the cover of trees was becoming more and more sparse, and I could see a rocky plain ahead of us. We had been most effectively led to this place, and it remained to be seen how we would leave it.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It seemed nearly at first as the long-off wail of the wind, but the effect on our ponies and horses was unmistakable, and many of our foe gave an uneasy shudder as well. "Black Riders, and not far off," breathed Aragorn, his face drawn with a grim foreboding, and then he was suddenly issuing orders in a stern but steady voice. "Ned, take the main force of hobbits to the rocks beyond," he commanded, as Ned gave a curt nod. "I well know the skill of your folk with rocks. Let them fly at those of Bree who oppose us, however. They are of no use against the Riders, but whatever you may do to distract and harry those who stand with them will be most useful."

"And you, my dwarven brothers," he then turned to the small but formidable group standing to the side, "Use your axes well. Build us a great bonfire, and as hastily as possible. The Riders are not mortal, but their horses are, and fire is one of our best weapons. Drovers and free men of Bree, protect us from the rear, and guard the bonfire as well. Remember all! Avoid the sting of the swords of the Riders at all cost! There are fates worse than death, my friends. My brothers and I will ride forth to challenge, and I would prefer friendly swords at our backs."

The keening cry of those who came was growing ever louder, but the Ranger paid it no mind, as he gave both Baggins and myself a thoughtful look. "Somehow, for reasons that I don't entirely understand, the both of you have become central to the desires of the Witch King and his master. I dare not chance their laying their hands on the both of you, but since you both have mounts, stay with the men for now and fall back to the hobbits if needs be."

The rude mutterings and curses of the surrounding rabble were growing louder and more confident, as Aragorn and his fellow Dunedin circled around each other, quietly reviewing their plans. The dwarves had lost no time in their task, and the fire had sprung crackling into the frosty air as the Rangers each grasped a mighty staff from those offered up by Ned and his hobbits, and plunged them into the fire. Slowly, almost nonchalantly, they rode forward, burning staffs held aloft in one hand, and their other hand resting lightly on the hilts of the long swords still tucked into their scabbards. Their great horses had no need of the guidance of reins, but snorted, and pawed at the ground, and showed no sign of fear.

And it was well that they did not, for the first of the Black Riders appeared through the edge of the clearing, and I don't think I've ever seen a more fearful sight. They seemed immensely tall, with flowing dark tattered robes, and were mounted on black horses that nearly seemed as much machine as animal. Their faces were hidden, a fact for which I was most grateful. The grating, keening howl that came from under their hoods was so terrifying that I nearly felt frozen in place, much like the trembling mouse who watches the swoop down of the hawk and knows there is no place to which he can run. Even our foe who stood with them seemed to be every bit as much horrorstricken as were we, and no one or thing moved in all this ghastly tableau save the Riders and the Dunedin.

It was then that Aragorn, riding at the front of his comrades, lifted high his fiery brand and commanded, "Begone, foul spawn of Sauron! These lands are under our protection, and we will not suffer you to stay!"

With a horrible cackle, the leader of the Riders, the Witch King himself, responded with a jeer, seemingly, in an extraordinarily repellent way, amused, "Do the Rangers think themselves so high these days?"

"Perhaps you and your master forget who I am," Aragon responded coldly. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, King of the Men of the West, the King from over the Sea, and these lands are mine." And with a mighty cry, he raised his torch high, and abruptly galloped forth, leading the charge against the Witch King himself, the rest of the Dunedin likewise following behind him.

But there was an instant response from the forces allied with the Riders, as if this sudden attack had startled them into wakefulness, and the grim horde charged towards all of us. The men of Bree, and not a few dwarves, raised their knives and axes as well, with an answering bellow, and the battle was on.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The forces were greater on their side, but I could see that Aragorn had cunningly distributed our troops so that they could do the most damage on our enemy. The men from Bree who stood by us grimly made a bloody impression on those who attacked, backed both by the fire in our midst, and the deadly hail of stones coming from the surrounding hills. I was not in the least surprised by the accuracy of the stones the hobbits let fly, for accuracy is prized by our folk above all, but I was startled by the deadly force with which they hit, as I saw large men fall in their tracks, dead from a single clout, and I fleetingly realized that outside of the Shire, this was not just the means of picking off a plump coney or two.

Baggins and I, mounted on our ponies, kept to the midst of the men, and it was with quiet satisfaction that I realized that we could keep pace with them. It was a grim business indeed, hitting men and even an occasional hobbit, with the short swords that we had been given, and I tried very hard to block out the thought that I was using my weapon to a bloody purpose, although I must admit that I did try to wound rather than kill when at all possible.

Wave after wave of grim men seemed to come our way, and it was only from the ghastly shrieks of the Riders that I was forced to remember that the battle was bigger than merely what Baggins and I, side by side, faced. The snow had begun to fall once again, and the whole affair settled into a hideous, frozen and bloody nightmare. My sword arm was beginning to ache and my legs had been scraped and sliced half a dozen times, and worst of all, I knew that Bill had not gone entirely unscathed as well. Things did not seem to be going our way, I was beginning to dimly grasp, as there seemed to be less and less of us, and more and more of them, attacking us. I knew Baggins was at my side even without looking, and that was my only ragged consolation in this horrendous dream into which I seemed to have fallen.

It was the unearthly howl, unlike anything I'd ever heard before, that finally stopped me cold. A deadly Rider was riding straight at me, sword lifted high. But it was not from him from whence the howl came. I was stricken motionless, staring at him in a hopeless bewilderment, when there was a sudden rush past me, and numbly I realized that unlooked for assistance had at last come to us. For it was the wizard Radagast who swept past me, mounted on a great dark horse. And at his heels, in countless numbers, came running a great pack of fierce grey wolves, howling eerily and baring their fierce fangs. Not only were the enemy's troops about us taken aback by this unearthly menace, but the Riders' mounts themselves stepped back in terror, ignoring the shrieked imprecations of their masters. With a weary grin, I looked about for Baggins, but as my eye caught his, a last Rider dashed past me. His sword was held high, and he was headed straight for Baggins. With a shriek of fury that probably rivaled theirs, I kicked Bill into a startled gallop, and threw the both of us into his path. I caught a last glimpse of the horror on Baggins' face as I felt pain suddenly explode in my thigh, and my world instantly went black and cold beyond all belief.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

There was nothing I knew but that black and the cold. Blacker than the darkest night ever, and so cold that ice and snow and the deepest of winters were never nearly naught to compare. I was alone in my torment, hopelessly alone, and I felt my heart nearly break in despair. And then, somehow, I managed to open my eyes.

And he was there. Frodo, my dearest, my most beloved. He was bending over me, and his expression of unmistakably frightened apprehension altered immediately as he saw my eyes flicker open. With an incoherent cry, he turned briefly to someone at his side, and cried, "Aragon, he awakes!" Then he turned back to me, and the look of mingled trepidation and yearning with which he met my confused gaze was so naked that I opened my mouth to speak, but could utter nothing more coherent than a low moan. He raised my hand, clutched tightly in his, to his mouth and kissed it, entirely heedless of who might see, but I could not feel his touch nor his lips and that terrified me beyond all else.

But then Aragorn was suddenly within my field of vision as well, and although his face was streaked with dried blood and unmistakably weary, his smile was genuine and his regard was warm. "And here is our brave warrior come back to us," he murmured. "You have done well, my valiant hobbit. Take heart, for there is athelas here and those who love you. Sleep well, Samwise, and you will awaken to better times."

With that, there was the distinctive odor of the herb, and I felt the deadly cold begin to ease. With a last look into Frodo's eyes, I closed my own, and fell into a deep sleep.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The next time I opened my eyes, I knew at once that I had been moved, although I know not how or where. But I was somewhere warm, and I was lying on something comfortable, and suddenly, with incalculable joy, I realized the bitter cold that had enveloped me was no more. And there was Frodo, once again, as my eyes fluttered open, and this time I could feel my hand tightly held in his. I know I smiled, and he returned it, heartfelt, but with a start I realized that I could see the trace of dried tears upon those fine cheeks of his. "Frodo," I murmured, without any thought but to speak that beloved name once more, and suddenly his arms were around me, and I was raised and held tightly to his breast, and I heard his ragged voice in my ears with a startling combination of reprimand and only partially concealed tears, "Oh, Sam, never do that again, my dearest love. You are an unutterable fool, you do know that, my beloved, do you not?"

I know that I looked at him in total bewilderment, as he gently laid me back on the bed on which I found myself, but my thoughts were far too hazy to consider the matter any further. I contented myself to clinging tightly to his hand, which I had found wrapped fast about mine, and smiled back at him once more. Whatever this was all about could be resolved later, but for now, I felt supremely and miraculous happy. Once again, I fell back into a deep sleep.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The next time I awoke, I found myself sleepily staring at an odd gathering all seated about a cozy fire. The location, I drowsily recognized, was our room at the Prancing Pony. I was in bed, and for the moment, quite comfortable indeed. But, seated before the sitting room hearth, was a peculiar assemblage indeed. Baggins, of course, and Aragorn as well, but also Ned, Reedborn, the wizard Radagast, and perhaps the most surprising of all, Greyleaf, the herbalist. They were conversing quietly and as my thoughts began to collect themselves, I found that I was suddenly immensely curious as to what had been occurring as I had been unaccountably napping the hours away. I stirred, thinking to prop myself up, but as I did so, a bolt of hot pain swept through me, and I know I gave an involuntary yelp.

Of course, that drew everyone's attention to me in an instant. Frodo flew to my side immediately, and I do not deny that the warmth in his eyes, and his firm and tender embrace, as he helped me raise myself into a sitting position, were the best sort of medicine I could ever want. But the others surrounded me as well, and I began to sense that they seemed to feel my return to consciousness was a triumph of some sort, a not entirely reassuring realization.

Greyleaf, who appeared to be far more tidy and sharp-eyed than the last time I had seen him, studied me carefully and then gave a satisfied nod. "The athelas has done the trick; indeed it has," he pronounced, giving Aragorn a triumphant look.

"Athelas?" I muttered with not a little confusion. "I thought there was none of that stuff about. And what the devil has happened to my leg?"

"It seems that Master Greyleaf is responsible for the former," Baggins gave the herbalist a thankful nod as he unobtrusively tightened his embrace, to my still rather befuddled delight.

"Well if that many folk want something that desperately, it seemed to be a good idea to hold onto a bit of it," Greyleaf gave crafty grin. "'Tis but good hobbit sense, say I."

"Without a doubt," Aragorn nodded with approval, "and it was fortunate indeed that you did so. Indeed, Samwise Gamgee," he slowly smiled, "you have proved to be a remarkable hobbit in so many ways. It seems that you have survived the cut of a Morgul blade with no worse consequences than possibly a bit of a permanent limp. I must say that I have never imagined that to be possible."

"Nothing to be feeding on." With a gravely murmur, Radagast, who still remained seated by the fire, raised his pipe slightly and nodded, as the smoke swirled obediently about his weathered and battered brown hat.

"Indeed," Aragorn agreed, still studying me carefully. "I have always suspected that the Morgul blade feeds upon an inclination to power and pride, as well as a desire to glorify oneself. And quite fortunately for you, Samwise, you appear to have very little in the way of these tendencies. In addition," and he gave a quick glance towards Baggins as he continued, "you met the blade in the act of self-sacrifice for one whom you loved. That is the sort of motivation which Sauron and his minions will never be able to understand. But there will be time to discuss these matters later, for there is no medicine that will heal you faster now than rest. Come, my dear friends and comrades, let us retire. There will be time to decide what is to be done next on the morrow, but for this night, such questions are not what matters."

And within moments, they had all left, and Frodo and I were alone.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I suppose it was the healers' instinct, but my first act upon our finding ourselves alone was to fling the covers off and try to determine why my leg felt as it did. To pronounce it uncomfortable would be an undeniable understatement. It was freezing cold, it was burning hot, it felt as though a perfect army of ants had invaded it beneath the skin, and I was determined to put an end to this nonsense as soon as possible. And I must admit that the gloomy forecasts as to the fate of one hurt in this manner had me undeniably anxious. As is true for many a healer, I must guiltily admit, I never dreamed that any hurt of consequence could ever come to me, but it seemed as though it had.

Frodo was silent, but assisted me in drawing back the covers and undoing the bandaging, knowing very well what was on my mind without me having to trouble him by expressing it in words. At least this injury had the decency to have occurred in an area that was visible to me, and I examined it with great care and not a little apprehension.

The skin of my thigh had been sliced open, but the open cut was already beginning to crust over, and although it began to bleed slowly once the bandages were removed, it was at a thankfully slow pace, and I knew that once I wrapped it tightly up again it would stop. The skin around the wound did not show any angry steaks of red or black, and with great thankfulness, I realized that it was not infected. So far, all was well, but there was something about the injury that troubled me. There was a dead and knotted aspect to the flesh surrounding the wound and that, along with the throbbing pain that seemed to be centered at the core of my leg, gave me pause.

"There is something devilish about this, Frodo," I could not help but murmur, and he nodded, and regarded me with an unreadable expression.

"By all accounts," he said slowly, "you should currently be a thrall of the Witch King, and yet you are not, and what's more, are showing no indications of ever becoming such. Both Aragorn and Radagast have apparently never seen the like, and they are not entirely sure as to how to explain the matter. But I think I know you just a bit better than they do."

He lifted his hand at this point and laid it gently on my face, tenderly cupping my cheek. I turned into his touch without thought, and kissed the palm of his hand lovingly. "And this is what I mean," he breathed, his voice falling into a hushed whisper. "How could a heart as true as yours, as essentially good as is yours, ever fall into evil?" I felt his hand slide slowly across my cheek, down the side of my neck, and grasp the back of my head as he leaned forward, and his lips met mine.

All of a sudden, nothing else mattered. My leg was an inconvenience at the most, and at the best an affair that could be entirely set aside for the moment. For I had Frodo in my hungry embrace, his delicious lips once again upon mine, and what else could possibly matter in the least other than that? With a yearning sigh, I fell back against the pillows, and drew my hands ravenously up his lithe back. "Frodo, oh, Frodo," I moaned, as our lips parted for the moment, and he needed no further encouragement than that.

"Sam, my very dearest Sam," he sighed in return, and that was end of conversation, at least of the verbal sort. To the end of my days, there was never anything else that ever was the least bit of importance to me when I held that precious form in my longing arms. Time was lost and I fell into that state of bliss that knew no boundaries, no restrictions, no limits. He was mine and I was his, and there was nothing else that signified in the least. It wasn't until much later, as I lay on my side with Frodo cozily tucked behind me in spoon-fashion, that I realized that my leg had not pained me in quite awhile.

But when I drowsily mentioned as much to him, I heard his rueful murmur of acknowledgment soft in my ear. "I wish I could take away the pain forever, my dearest, but if I can for even a little while, I suppose that's something. I'm just so very glad to be able to still hold you in my arms; I can't begin to tell you."

"Mmm," I mumbled happily. "You certainly have a restorative touch, Frodo dearest. I could never ask for a better healer than you." His arms tightened around me, and I snuggled happily back into them and was soon fast asleep.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

We set off for home only a couple of days later, and I could not help but think the bright sun and brilliant blue sky that broke out from behind the grey clouds was not entirely a coincidence. There was only the two of us, and Bill, the best purchase I ever impulsively made. Reedborn and Bobbin had stayed behind along with, of course, Barrel and Bottle, to negotiate a promising new trade initiative between Bree and the Shire. Greyleaf had cast off his dusty and reclusive former self without a thought, and he and Ned had put their heads together on the matter of bringing some desired goods back to Bree. Athelas, of course, was at the top of the list, but it was discovered that there were many other goods from the Shire that had gone missing for far too long, and Reedborn entered into a pact with his allies, the drovers, to remedy that situation forthwith. Braeborn's apples, it might be added, also figured prominently on that list, and I was glad that we could compensate our former host in some small way for his hospitality that bitter winter night.

Walking for any distance was, unfortunately, still quite impractical as far as I was concerned, but I was determined that we should make our way back to Bag End as soon as was possible. It would be a journey of several days, for I couldn't manage any sort of cart either, but I felt that between Bill to carry me, and Baggins at my side, we should eventually reach our destination in a series of small stages, and however long it took, it was preferable to remaining in Bree one more day. I don't believe I quite presented my feelings in this way, but I had no doubt but that Baggins knew exactly where I stood on the matter, and was completely in agreement with me.

Baggins had been uncharacteristically silent during the preparations for our journey, and even that first morning, as we made our thankful way out of the weathered wooden gates that faced the Great Eastern Road and turned our faces west, he remained so. I was having a difficult time reading his mind, not the least of which reason being that my attention had been preoccupied in discovering the best angle at which to be seated on Bill, in order to lessen the pain of my leg. So I suppose I was equally as uncommunicative. The road on which we found ourselves was, despite the improving weather, still a maze of icy puddles, thawing snow drifts, and mud, and I encouraged Bill to take as much time as he desired to make his way through it.

Thus we were still within sight of the scattered smials that comprised the outskirts of Bree when I grew impatient with my uncomfortable perch and felt a sudden longing for a mug of hot tea, and to be quite frank, Baggins' arms about me. I was also starting to become more than a bit perturbed regarding his silence, and felt it might be prudent to investigate its cause. That is, if he would let me. Never was a hobbit a tighter nut to crack than Baggins when he chose to be so. But those days had not been as frequent these past couple of years and I was determined to use my skills to see what could be done about it.

So I gave an only partially feigned groan, and abruptly declared, "Baggins, this is going to be a long trip indeed. Blast this leg anyways. I would give more than I could say for a hot drink, and a bit of rest. And if you managed to pack any brandy in our parcels somewhere, I certainly wouldn't say no to a drop of it."

He started up at my words, as though his thoughts had been far away, and gave me a rueful smile. "Of course, my dear, how inconsiderate of me. I didn't even check on you." Stretching up a strong hand to help me down, he continued, "And even Bill, as wonderfully as he has filled out in these last few days, could stand a break or two. Do keep me in line, won't you?"

"Someone certainly has to," I commented lightly, as I accepted his assistance with gratitude and stiffly led Bill off the road to a bit of browned grass that had been revealed by the melting snow. "It might be a little early, but I could do with some elevensies, or possibly even lunch. You wouldn't happen to see anything that we could manage a fire with, do you?"

The wood was unavoidably wet, and took forever to catch the tinder's spark, but at last we got a fire started, a pot of snow on it to melt into hot water for tea, and I produced some dried apples to help convince Bill that this excursion had some benefits after all. Baggins rummaged through our packs, and found bread, cheese, onions, and even a bit of pickle, which he melded together over the fire into a delectable meal. I found the brandy. And soon enough, we were comfortably seated nestled together in the relatively dry shelter of a thicket of juniper, our stomachs enjoyable full, and the warmth of the brandy and tea coursing through us. Perhaps it was that beverage that suddenly gave me the courage to speak as I did.

"All right, Frodo, out with it," I announced gruffly, settled as cozily as I was at his side, his arm firmly around me, gazing quite consciously not at him, but the snow-glazed pines all about us, and Bill contently snuffling through the partially uncovered frost-bit grass. I could feel him stiffen slightly for a moment, and then reluctantly give out a stifled sigh.

"You know me too well, don't you, my dear," he murmured, and it wasn't a question. He bowed his head, and I let him be, knowing that he was marshalling his thoughts. "They were so convinced," he said at last, speaking so quietly I could scarcely hear him. "Not a soul alive could withstand the Morgul blade. That was how the Riders were created, you know. That was how the Dark Lord collected his followers. All it took was a cut of the knife. And even athelas, of which there was none at the time, as far as we knew, was no remedy. And I watched the blade slice into you, as you intercepted the Rider who was coming at me, and there was no way to prevent it."

There were several moments of silence then, and I waited with my heart in my throat. I knew that I had been insensible for at least a day or so at that point, and I had never really gotten the particulars. But then he continued, his voice now unmistakably ragged.

"I was so terrified, Sam, you have no idea. But I watched you fade in and out of consciousness and it still seemed to be you. Greyleaf revealed that he still had some athelas, and Aragorn brewed a concoction to use on you, and yet we still did not know. I lay in bed next to you at night, Sam, and held you, and called to you, and you did not answer me. And I thought that if they were right about it, and if I lost you forever to such a horror, I did not know, or even cared, what would become of me. For I never would have left you, my beloved, not even then. Especially not then."

I bowed my head, and tightened my grasp on his hand, and for a moment, neither one of us trusted ourselves to speak. But then he continued.

"And somehow, it did not happen. No one quite understood why, not even Radagast. But you remained Samwise Gamgee, hobbit of the Shire, and did not pass into the shadows."

I gulped back my fear, and murmured, "I suppose I was not the sort they were looking for."

"Indeed," Baggins replied softly, his face entirely serious as his eyes steadily met mine. "Or more likely, the sort they did not understand. Perhaps, with nothing that could be used to induce you to their side, the Morgul blade did not work as intended. I am quite sure I would not have been as fortunate."

"What rubbish," I responded warmly to that last comment, impulsively reaching over and drawing his mouth to mine for a thorough kiss. "We are alike in more ways than we are not, Frodo Baggins," I spoke nearly sternly when I was at last able to do so. "I am not the only hobbit they would have been unable to seduce; I am certain of it."

"I wish I could believe that," he smiled uncertainly back at me.

"Well, I most decidedly do, and I'll have no more doubt from you, my dear. Now, if you'd just give me a hand, Bill seems to be wandering a bit too far, and we probably should try to at least make our way past the Bree town limits by nightfall if we ever hope to see Bag End again." And I stiffly rose up with renewed determination.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

I found, as the next few days went by, Baggins more and more inclined to speak of what I had missed, on that fateful afternoon. It was a combination of the fire and the unexpected wolf attack that turned the balance in our favor, apparently. The Riders' mounts could not withstand the double onslaught, and without their mounts, the Riders were strangely powerless. They withdrew and then retreated, and left the rest of their troops in shambles. Ferny had been, we later found out, the mastermind of the man-hobbit coalition that had kept Bree in thrall for so long, and without his leadership, the rest fell into squabbling and demoralized factions who could not present any sort of united front without the Riders to back them up.

And not surprisingly, Ned turned out to be the figure to whom more and more hobbits and men alike turned, and between Aragorn and him, the restoration of Bree was well underway by the time we had left.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Nearly two weeks later, we found ourselves on the lane that led up to the front of our smial. The weather had remained relatively clear even though cold throughout our journey, and it was under a brightly blue sky that I finally saw our dear round green door. "Oh, Frodo," I sighed with feeling, halting Bill in his tracks. "I never thought to see this sight again."

"I must admit I had my doubts as well, my dearest," Baggins smiled up at me, and laid a gentle hand upon my leg, "and yet here we are. Gone and back again indeed."

I smiled down at him and then as I realized my position, another thought struck me. "Bill!" I exclaimed. "Goods heavens, Baggins, what are we to do with the pony?"

Baggins gave a merry laugh. "Why, startle the Widow Rumble with him, of course! As much as you have spoiled that pony, and entirely justifiably, I might add, I'd be surprised if you didn't want to put him up in the back guest room."

"Not a bad suggestion," I grinned as I clambered off of his back, much less stiffly these days. "But I think Bill might find it just a bit confining. I suppose Tom Cotton'd be willing to put him up for awhile – he has that back shed that he wasn't using last I checked, but we must have a stable built by spring, Baggins, my love."

"As you wish, my – ah, but here is the inestimable Widow herself," he interrupted himself, as she bustled out of the front door and stopped short, giving a startled screech, although whether it was directed at the unexpected pony, or Baggins and myself, I was not quite sure. She collected herself quickly enough though, and then launched herself at the both of us with a perfect flurry of frantic scoldings for worrying her so by disappearing for weeks on end and exclamations of thankfulness for our safe return. I felt her perceptive eye fall on me in particular, and knew my changed condition had not gone unnoticed, and I would be called upon to, at some point, give her a full account.

But for the moment, there was too much for her of which to take immediate account, so she quickly offered to lead Bill over to the Cottons' for his temporary lodging, and collect up a few odds and ends to make us a proper tea. Frodo accepted her first proposal on Bill's behalf gratefully, but demurred on the rest.

"My dear Widow, for the moment, I think that both Gamgee and I are looking forward to nothing as much as a hot bath, a hot pot of tea, and the prospect of a decent bed tonight at last. I do believe that we can manage those on our own, although if you wished to treat us with some of those delicious cream scones that you do so well tomorrow for second breakfast, I would be more than grateful."

"Oh, certainly, Mr. Baggins, you both must have had a weary time of it indeed. Any little thing I can do to help, you've but to say the word." And true to her assurance, we were immediately treated to the unusual spectacle of a wary pony, and a short stout hobbittess holding the business end of the rope attached to his bridle, confronting each other for the first time, both equally unsure of where they stood with each other. I quickly dug the last rather bedraggled carrot out from the bottom of my pack and handed it to her. Bill gave me a quick look, and then sniffed the carrot with interest, as she held it out uncertainly to him. With a dainty dexterous movement, he snatched it out of her hand and ate it with a snort of approval.

"Ah, you're a good lad, you are at that," she clucked with approval, giving him a firm pat. And in no time the both of them disappeared over the hill to the Cottons' farm, in the ruddy glow of late afternoon, and I turned to Baggins.

"A bath. You distinctly mentioned something about a hot bath," I announced firmly. "I certainly hope you weren't toying with me on that prospect."

"Then it is fortunate that our tub is large enough for two, now, isn't it, Gamgee?" His eyes sparkled as he regarded me with a wicked grin. "How fast do you suppose we can get the kettle to boil?"

"Not nearly soon enough," I answered, answering his grin with an equally wicked one of my own. "But it won't boil at all if we are standing out here."

And without another word, we were not.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The bright icy light of a full moon shown into our bedroom window not long after. We had taken quite a lengthy bath indeed, and needless to mention, a leisurely soak was not the chief goal either of us had in mind. But at last, the water had gone cold, and our stomachs had begun to rumble. So we had made a quick raid on the larder, always thoughtfully kept full by the Widow, and had stolen back to our room with the spoils and a much anticipated bottle of old Winyards. And now, feeling deliciously warm inside and out, and contented in every possible manner, we lay sprawled, both quite bare, atop the coverlets of our dearly familiar bed, comfortably and happily entwined.

"How much I miss this when we are not here, my dearest Sam," Frodo murmured, running a slow hand down my side. "And yet, and yet. . ."

"You will be horribly bored inside of a fortnight, if no one turns up with a desperate tale," I finished his confession, laying my hand atop of his. "I know, dearest. It's who you are; there's no disputing that. No fretting, Frodo. I knew full well with whom I was falling in love."

"But this time," and his eyes were suddenly troubled as he turned his face to mine and reached up to the side of my face. "This time it could have been so much worse than I could ever have imagined."

"And yet it was not," I rested my forehead against his and raised my hand to clasp the top of his. "I'm still not sure of the reasons for that, but if I've ended up with nothing more than a limp out of the whole affair, I count myself very well off indeed. Not too mention acquiring a pony. Pippin will be most impressed."

"You do dote on that animal, don't you," his voice was still low, but a slow smile crept across his face, as he met my lips with his.

"Not nearly as much as I dote on you, Frodo-love," I breathed warmly, as soon as I could, and folded myself closer against him.

"You truly do, don't you, Samwise," His voice was slightly tremulous and his eyes were dark in the moonlight as his other hand caught me fast about the waist.

"Always have. Always will. And why are we still talking, Frodo-love?"

With a joyous laugh, he deftly rolled me over and pinned a very compliable me, in the most delectable fashion, to the covers. "Because it makes me blissfully happy, my beloved Gamgee. And let me show you what else does."

The Widow's scones went untasted until very late the next morning.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It began to snow again the next day, but I could not have cared less. I was on the settle in the study of Bag End, well wrapped in a warm rug, and my leg had hardly given me a twinge at all since we had come home. I was attempting to jot down some of the particulars of our adventure, but I must confess that I was spending more time alternately staring absent-mindedly into the cheery fire in our homely hearth, and dreamily gazing at Baggins' profile, sitting as he was next to me on the settle, clearly lost in thought.

Things could stay this way forever, I thought contentedly, and I'd be perfectly happy. Of course, it was at that moment that there was a sharp rap upon our front door.

Baggins sat up with a start, and even before the Widow entered with the entirely expected news that there was a stranger to see him on most urgent matters of business, gave me a rueful look. "I probably should send this fellow on his way," he murmured. "After all, we have only just come back."

"Don't you think of it, my dear Frodo," I laughed, raising myself up to a more respectable position, and giving him a swift kiss. "You know you live for this."

He had no chance to respond since a snow-strewn elderly hobbit in a ragged jacket, unconsciously mangling the ends of his humble knitted scarf with his trembling hands, was shown into the study at that very moment.

Baggins quickly rose, instantly the picture of solicitous attention. "Not another word, my dear hobbit, until you've taken those wet things off, and had something hot to drink. Mrs. Rumble, some tea, if you please."

"The kettle is already on, Mr. Baggins," she interrupted him with a only partially concealed smile. "I'll just bring the tray on in, if you like."

And before he quite knew how it had happened, our visitor was seated in the best seat in the study, his jacket hung up, dripping slightly near the fire, and a warm rug over his knees. A steaming cup of tea was in one hand and one of the Widow's cream scones was in the other. And as he proceeded to launch into his tale of woe for the benefit of an obviously fascinated Baggins, I just had to laugh quietly to myself. We were most definitely home again, and there was no happier hobbit that morning, in all the Shire, than I.

**Author's Note:**

> For TTT - _In the old days hobbits used to go on their travels now and again. Not that many ever came back, and not that all they said was believed: news from Bree, and not sure as Shiretalk, as the sayings go._
> 
> For ROTK - _Sam would not go to bed until he had visited Bill in his stable._


End file.
